


Nox Industries

by jmajerus



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 100,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14001438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmajerus/pseuds/jmajerus
Summary: Rhysand Nox is the CEO of the most powerful company in Prythian, Nox Industries.  He is a ruthless business rival to the bitter Spring Corporation and it's CEO Tamlin Greene, and known as the most brutal businessman in all of Prythian.  When a very unqualified Feyre Archeron comes through his door to apply for a low end job, he has strong feeling he needs to help her, and not just because she's the most stunning creature he's ever seen.  As he helps her to heal from the abuse she has suffered at the hands of his rival, he finds he doesn't want to know what life will be like without her.  A modern AU of ACOTAR told through Rhys POV.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All recognizable characters and places belong to Sarah J. Maas.

Rhysand Nox, was not a man who normally found himself involving himself with common interviews for his company Nox Industries. As the CEO of the most powerful company in Prythian he was normally swamped with a thousand things he needed to do. He really needed an assistant, or an army of them, but he needed to trust his assistant completely and so far the only people he trusted were already in their perfect positions.

His second in command, a petite and terrifying woman named Amren, ran his legal department. His third in command, his cousin Morrigan, ran his human resources department but also oversaw his Board of Directors. His adoptive brothers Cassian and Azriel ran his security and his intelligence departments respectively. While they were more than willing to help where they could, they had their own duties to attend to, so he made due without an assistant.

But on his way up from the lobby to see his cousin, Mor, he had found himself sharing an elevator with a beautiful creature. The young woman had golden brown hair that she had braided back to show beautifully sharp cheekbones, full lips, a perfectly straight nose, and a pointed chin. She kept her blue-gray eyes down on the floor of the elevator though he caught her glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. Her clothes spoke volumes on their own. The pale blue blouse was worn thin and in a basic style that wasn’t popular in current fashion and hadn’t been for half a decade. Her pencil skirt was a faded black and he could see where it had been patched. Her shoes were flats that were worn down to the point they would likely fall apart soon. She wasn’t one of the rich university students storming in to demand an interview with the most ruthless company. Here was someone likely desperately in need of a job.

Rhys adjusted the black lapels of his suit jacket and turned to smile at her. “Are you here to meet with Morrigan Gold?” He asked.  
“Yes,” came the short, too quiet reply. He knew enough off of that one word. She was beaten down, expecting not to get a job. Likely she wasn’t qualified. He could almost feel the heaviness that had settled over her.

“What are you applying for?” He reached for the resume in her hands and she gave it over. Feyre Archeron was listed at the top. A quick perusal of the words typed out in front of him told him she hadn’t finished high school, in fact she had barely started it. She had been working full time positions since she had been fourteen. A grocery store where she stocked shelves, a position at a meat packaging facility, and a stint as a waitress that had ended well over a year before and nothing since. Her resume was littered with wrong words and grammatical errors that showed she relied heavily on the suggestions of the word processor she had used.

“I heard there was an opening for janitorial staff here,” she folded her hands in front of her.

Rhys almost shook his head. The idea of her scrubbing toilets or vacuuming offices at the end of the night didn’t appeal to him at all. It was likely all she was technically qualified for but he didn’t like the idea of sending her off to do it. Something told him it was a waste of talent.

“I’m on my way to see Miss Gold now, do you mind if I accompany you?” He asked as the elevator doors opened and as he handed her resume back. She gave a vague nod as she took her resume and followed him out into the hallway. She didn’t speak as he led her to the waiting area outside of Mor’s office. After waving her into a chair, he stepped into Mor’s office without bothering to knock.

“Oh, Rhys, I have an interview on her way up,” Mor turned to him. “Can it wait?”

“I was on my way up to chat with you already but I ran into your interview on the elevator. Would it be alright if I joined in?”

“You’ve never been interested in these sorts of things before,” she raised a sculpted eyebrow at him.

“This one has intrigued me,” he admitted. “I promise I’ll stay out of the way.”

“You won’t,” she snorted. “But we need to find somewhere else to have it. There’s not enough room in here for the three of us to meet properly.” She waved at her rather large office. There was plenty of room but most of the surfaces, including the chairs were covered in clutter.

“We can use the conference room by my office,” Rhys offered.

“Fine. Let’s go.” Mor led the way out to the waiting area where she greeted Feyre with a bright smile and a warm handshake. “We’re actually going to head upstairs to a conference room for your interview. So if you’ll just follow me.” She breezed past the elevator they had come up on and went to one placed along the back wall. Inside Mor produced her ID card and swiped it through a scanner to make the elevator instantly start moving. Feyre watched it all, questions filling her eyes, but she asked none of them.

At the top, the doors opened and Rhys led the way out into the waiting area outside of his office. There was no receptionist or desk in front of his door. Only a gold plaque on the door listing his name and title. The waiting area held uncomfortable wood chairs and a water cooler. The conference room was closed in with high, thick wood paneled walls. The majority of the room was overtaken with a large mahogany conference table surrounded by the most expensive brown leather executive chairs.

“Have a seat,” Mor pointed to a chair while she sat in one across from Feyre and Rhys found another. Both of them noticed Feyre hesitate before sitting down. “Now, let’s talk.”

Feyre answered every question with quiet, short answers that were overly polite. Yet Rhys could sense there had once been a fire in the woman. One he wanted to spark again and play with. One he was sure would burn him and yet he didn’t mind.

“Tell me what caused you to drop out of high school your freshman year,” Rhys broke into the conversation between Mor’s scripted questions and Feyre’s equally scripted replies. He wanted something that wasn’t a robotic response from her. He wanted to hear her mind and know how it worked. He wanted to hear some spark of her personality.

“My family fell on hard times. I never did well in school and we needed an income to pay bills, so I started working instead,” she told him.

Rhys nodded in response. Already he had pieced together that she likely had a learning disability, likely related to reading and writing by how her resume had been written. Depending on where she had gone to school, it was possible they hadn’t had the resources to recognize the disability or help her cope. It wasn’t a deal breaker in the least. They could easily work around a learning disability. The fact she had gone to support her family told him she was a hard and dedicated worker. That was something they could always use more of. With his question answered, he sat back and let Mor continue the interview.  
Toward the end of Mor’s listed questions, the door opened and Rhys frowned at his adoptive brothers as they settled themselves on either side of him in chairs. Azriel produced a folder and set it in front of himself.

“What’s this?” Mor demanded.

“Miss Archeron,” Azriel turned to Feyre with no explanation. “Are you here to spy for Spring Corp?”

Rhys let his eyes flick to the woman. She was paling quickly and her eyes were widening. He swallowed a growl. That fire he had thought was smothered in her was likely some sort of persona she used to make herself look harmless while she wheedled information out of everyone to report back to a handler.

“No, I am not a spy. Please, I’m just here for a janitorial job,” she pressed.

“There is a yearlong gap on your resume starting just over a year ago,” Azriel nodded to the paper in Mor’s hands. “Perhaps you’d like to tell us about your internship with Tamlin Greene.”  
Feyre froze in place. Shame colored her features as she looked down at her lap and every instinct told Rhys they were dead wrong. She wasn’t a spy and she likely had left it off of her resume for a reason.

“Leave us a moment,” Rhys ordered to his family. 

Azriel gave him an alarmed look at the order but stood when Mor did. Cassian held for a moment longer before he also left and closed the door behind him, leaving Rhys alone with Feyre. Rhys waited a moment before he walked to the water cooler, produced a cup of water, and walked it over to set in front of Feyre. Then he sat down next to her.

“Tell me about your internship at Spring Corp. Why leave it off of your resume if you aren’t a spy?” He kept his chair turned towards her, hoping he was showing he was open to listening to her.

“Mr. Greene found me waitressing in a diner and offered me a position on the spot because I got his coffee right.” She blushed. “He called it an internship but mostly I fetched his coffee and ran his errands.” She reached out the clutch the cup of water.

“There’s more, isn’t there,” Rhys pressed.

He knew Tamlin. They had been friends long ago even though their businesses were rivals. They had been friends until Rhys’ father had taken a large contract from Tamlin’s father. Tamlin’s father had gotten drunk at dinner with his family and had driven around until he had found Rhys’s family enjoying a dinner together. Having his family in the car hadn’t stopped him as he had driven full force into the side of the restaurant straight into the table that had held Rhys’ mother, father, and sister. His mother and sister had died instantly. His father had died later in the hospital. Tamlin’s family had all been killed on impact. They only reason Tamlin and Rhys had survived was they had been at a university function together. It had strained their friendship but Rhys had recognized that Tamlin wasn’t much like his father. Then at the funeral for his family, Tamlin had come in and had served Rhys with a lawsuit claiming the death of his family was Nox Industries fault and they owed an outrageous sum. The bitter lawsuit didn’t stand once evidence was given by the police, the restaurant, and bystanders and neither did the friendship Rhys had once had with Tamlin.

Tamlin had since become a man Rhys never would have been friends with. He was bitter about running the company he never wanted and he treated his friends and employees more like servants than people. Only a select few put up with him for long.

“The internship paid too damn well, I knew it did,” Feyre’s voice broke him from his thoughts. “I should have known better.”

“What happened?” Rhys tried to keep his voice even and reasonable.

“It started as small flirtations and I wasn’t open to it at first but eventually I let him start to buy me things. I let him kiss me and it felt nice. When he wasn’t talking business, he wasn’t a bad person. Then the more physical things started. It became things like I bring him his coffee and then I let him have me on his desk. I’d bring in lunch and give him a blow job. Whenever he was stressed he’d call me in and have me close the door.” She blushed. “I thought I loved him.”

“What next?” Rhys pressed.

“Some business deal went bad. I don’t know much about it but it put him in a foul mood. I brought his coffee the next morning and the café had messed it up. He was mad I hadn’t checked and bent me over his desk, rolled up my skirt, and used his belt to punish me for being careless.” Her cheeks turned red. “He apologized later and took me to dinner, bought me diamond earrings. He claimed he was under too much pressure and I had angered him. It was my job to lessen his stress so I needed to be more careful.” Her cheeks kept burning. “But the more business seemed to be going bad, the more he picked up on my faults. I wasn’t wearing the right colors. He didn't want me wearing nylons with my skirts. I was talking to other staff too much. Eventually he secluded me in his office and I couldn’t leave until he did. He would pick me up at home in the mornings and then drive me home late at night. I was in company housing so he had the place watched. He got mad if I went out after being dropped off. I wasn’t able to handle whatever he was doing to me so I told him he couldn’t keep me like a prisoner in his office. He lost it and threw me against his bookcase. He was immediately apologetic, but it was too little too late. I accepted his apology and claimed I needed to use the bathroom to fix myself up, then I went to human resources to turn in my notice that I was quitting immediately.”

“So that was that,” Rhys sat back in his chair. Tamlin was an asshole, that much he knew, but to treat someone like that was a new low.

“He showed up at my apartment that night as I was gathering up my personal belongings. The human resources lady, Ianthe Priest, she went to Tamlin and told him I had quit. He was drunk and mad. He struck me, broke my wrist, and tried to lock me in the apartment. When he left, the apartment manager came and let me out. I had enough to get an apartment of my own well away from that area and I’ve been looking for work since, but I’m unqualified.” Feyre looked up at him then and he knew she had told the truth. He also knew exactly what he was going to do.

“I am going to offer you a job,” he kept his voice quiet. “I need a personal assistant. You’ve already done a bit of the work. Fetching coffee and ordering lunch will be part of it. But you’ll also prepare the conference room for meetings, answer the phone when someone calls up here, greet those coming up for meetings and alert me when everything is ready for me.” He studied the skeptical look on her face. “I do not expect anything from you physically. I may flirt, but I will never force you. Tell me to fuck off all you like. If a business deal goes bad and I am mad, I will not take it out on you. I take it out on Cassian, that hulking brute that decided to sit by the door. You won’t be trapped in my office. You’ll have your own desk in the sitting area which you are welcome to leave as needed. The job is a standard 8am to 5pm job with a lunch break, Monday through Friday. You may be asked to attend business events on weekends but you will know in advance. It is a salaried job and pays 100,000 marks a year.”

Feyre’s eyes went wide and her mouth popped open slightly at the amount. It was a large amount to pay someone for that sort of work and certainly someone very underqualified on paper. He could see the thoughts running through her head about the amount nod adding up to the work.

“This job requires a lot of confidentiality. You’ll be privy to things I let few others hear. You’ll have control of things that put my company at risk. The job pays well, because it is a lot to expect of one person,” he informed her. “And it pays well because I can afford to pay my employees well.” He took her hand. “Go home, think it over. If you agree, we will need to do something about your clothes.”

A blush crept over her cheeks as she looked herself over. “I know, they aren’t very attractive. Tamlin always wanted me in skirt that were above the knee and light-colored blouses.”

“I don’t care if you wear a skirt or pants, or what color blouse you want to wear. But you’ll need a new wardrobe. There is an image we maintain here at Nox Industries to the public and as my personal assistant, you’ll need to look the part.” He stood. “Here’s my personal business card, the number on it rings right to my office. Call me when you make your decision, Miss Archeron.” He shook her hand as he handed the card over and it was hard to ignore the spark of electricity he felt move between them at the touch. He was almost to the door when Feyre’s voice stopped him.

“I’d like the position,” she announced. Her voice sounded stronger and she looked confident in the decision when he turned to look at her. Good. He could use that sort of decisiveness.

“Then you will start on Monday morning. I’ll have Mor get your orientation packet together. Welcome to Nox Industries, Feyre.” He made himself leave the room and walk to his office passing his family on the way. They followed straight into his office as he closed the door and went to stare out the windows over the city below them.

“So, no escort out for the spy?” Cassian asked.

“The Tool hired her and groomed her to be his personal office fuck toy. Made her think she loved him while he started controlling her every move,” Rhys spoke. He wanted to scream and rage and hunt Tamlin down. How dare he hurt that girl? How dare he treat her that way? How dare he not let her go when she had had enough? Instead he turned to his family. “I offered her a job. She will be my personal assistant. I’ve been in need of one for some time.”

“I assume you discussed terms?” Mor asked.

“Yes. I’ll write them down for you. She’ll start Monday,” he looked around his office. 

The mahogany desk was the same one his father had inherited when he had taken over from his father. It was twin to the one in Tamlin’s office in Spring Corp. The most expensive one that could be bought at the time when the major industries and companies were being built up in Prythian. Somewhere along the line Nox Industries and Spring Corp had been partners and the executive offices were nearly identical.

“I think it’s time I redecorate this floor to look more… modern,” he stated with a pointed look at Mor. She had been after him to redecorate for some time and loved to shop and decorate. “And I’d like it done before Feyre starts on Monday.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre's first day at Nox Industries.

Come Monday, Rhys was quite proud of the work that had been put in on what was called the executive floor. The worn carpet had been replaced with black marble tile. The walls had been torn down to make way for thick tempered glass that was guaranteed to be sound proof. 

Cassian had tested the soundproofing himself by standing inside of the conference room to insult Amren as she had come through to inspect the changes herself. She hadn’t killed him by the time she left though she had confessed to Rhys she had been aware of what he was doing, though she couldn’t hear it. The mahogany conference table was replaced by a silver and black sleek table that stretched the length of the room. The chairs were basic black leather with silver accents. There was a counter along one wall that held a fancy single cup coffee brewer and an assortment of coffees along with a mini fridge full of small bottled waters.

In the sitting area the wood chairs had been replaced by white couches. Feyre’s desk sat in front of his office with a computer and her phone. The desk itself was surrounded by a rug of black and white whorls. The water cooler had been replaced by another coffee bar with a mini fridge of water.

Behind Feyre’s desk was a half wall of glass. He had originally asked for the full glass walls so Feyre would never feel closed in if she came into his office, but Mor had talked him out of it. The half wall would allow him to see out and for Feyre to easily see in, but would give him a small semblance of privacy apparently owed to him as a CEO. His traditional furnishings were replaced with sleek black, silver, and glass. It opened his office up and made it far less stuffy, but also made it look more cold and formal. Even with the openness he hoped it would display to Feyre, he knew it would lend to the mask he portrayed.  
All of it had taken only a few calls, his impressive expense account, and his name to get it all done immediately. He had even had time to send Mor out to meet with Feyre at one of the more expensive clothing stores in Prythian over the weekend. Mor had assured him, along with the extensive bill, that Feyre was well attired for her normal day to day work. If she was to attend any events with him or on behalf of the company, it would require additional shopping trips.

Feyre arrived with Mor at 9am in the waiting area looking exceptionally well in a deep purple blouse and light gray slacks. Her hair was again braided back and Rhys had the feeling it was a normal look for her. While he took her in, Feyre took one long look around at the changes and raised an eyebrow at Rhys when he came out to greet her. He simply gave her a smirk in response. Let her guess as to why things had been changed.

“Alright, this desk is yours,” Mor waved off Rhys before he could speak and walked Feyre to her desk. “Your computer, your phone,” she waved at the desk. “One of your most important jobs is serving as a last defense in undesirable people getting up here. That elevator is the only one to come up here. You need a specially coded badge like mine and yours to just come right up. Everyone else needs your permission. If they have a meeting, they will check in with reception downstairs and reception will call up to you to confirm. You should have an exact list of people and names of who will be attending each meeting, reception should confirm with IDs. Then they get escorted to the elevator. There’s a camera in the elevator. It’s very well hidden so only very suspicious people begin looking for it.”

There had been a few, too, who had gone looking for his hidden camera. Autumn Financial Services had tried several times to sneak people in. When they were denied access in the elevator, they had instantly started looking around. No one had found it yet. Azriel had installed it himself. Even Cassian, despite seeing the feed from the camera, couldn’t locate the tiny, yet powerful device.

“You will be able to see who is coming up and if they aren’t who they say they are or there are more than expected, you hit this big red button right here. It stops the elevator and quietly alerts Cassian.” Mor brought up the display for the live feed from the elevator. “If everything looks good, you click this button right here. The elevator won’t move without it even if the doors close.”

“You’ll be alerted whenever someone gets in the elevator even if they use an ID,” Rhys cut in as well. He wasn’t about to let his cousin do all of the talking. “So if someone steals an ID or hacks the system, which should be nearly impossible, you’ll be able to press the emergency stop.”

“Please do it at least once to Cassian,” Mor begged. “His ego is getting a little big and we like to prank him.”

“Really?” Feyre asked looking between Mor and Rhys.

“Really,” Rhys promised. “He pranks everyone so I’m sure he will get you first and you’ll be far more tempted to do it to him.”

“Wonderful,” she murmured with an eyeroll. “If there’s a fire or emergency where we can’t use the elevator?” She asked after a moment.

“The fire exit is down that hall, along with the restrooms and the executive lounge. That’s where we basically eat our lunches and where we get our coffee,” Mor waved to a hallway that stretched back from the main area. He had not had them replace more than the flooring and the furniture in those areas. The closed walls were for privacy for those allowed up on the floor for their breaks and, of course, for anyone in need of a restroom while on the floor.

“The stairs are locked on the other side. We can go out but they can’t come up unless there’s an actual fire,” Rhys explained.

“You’re a very protected man,” Feyre pointed out.

“I have a lot of enemies and certainly not a lot of friends in the press,” he shot back. “Everyone is always looking for information on how to bring me down or dirt on who to hurt to get at me.” He went to wave Mor off. He could handle things from this point. “What did you know of me before you came here?”

“Honestly, all I ever heard came from Tamlin. He said you were an arrogant, half-breed, bastard who took pleasure in stealing contracts, gutting other companies, and hurting good people,” she blushed as she spoke.

“The media portrays me much the same way. It’s an image I try and maintain,” he rested his backside on her desk to face her.

“Why maintain such a horrid image?” She demanded.

“Because it’s easier to do business that way,” Rhys shrugged. “People are too afraid to come after me if they think I’ll turn my eye towards them.” He looked to see Mor was still standing and watching. It seemed she had no intention of being shooed away. “And then they are partially right. I do take pleasure in stealing contracts and gutting other companies, but not in the way you think.”

“Have you ever heard of Velaris Incorportated?” Mor asked softly.

“Yes. Tamlin used to complain about it, but I don’t know why,” she looked to Rhys and he gave her a gentle smile.

“He would complain because he backs a lot of chain stores and Velaris only supports local businesses. It’s a company that buys up local businesses that are about to be bought out by chain stores and keeps them open and running,” Rhys explained.

“Protecting them,” Feyre clarified.

“Yes, and helping them strategize to stay in business when that chain store eventually finds another location,” Rhys looked to Mor again who nodded. Feyre had signed the confidentiality waiver already. Likely had spent the last hour with Amren going over the legalities involved in signing it as well. It would bring the number of people completely in on the secret up to six.

“Nox Industries is a big bad company that doesn’t always do the best by the way of the people, so we have tried to compensate by doing our best to protect them through Velaris Incorporated,” Mor supplied. “You could say we are two companies. One that everyone sees and knows about and one very few people have any real knowledge of.”

“As for stealing contracts and gutting other companies, I normally only approve those courses of actions if it’s beneficial to the people in the long run. For example, I don’t get in the way of Dawn Medical. Thesan runs a tight ship and he doesn’t overcharge for anything. Even if you can’t afford care, he offers all sorts of pro-bono work and grants to be applied for. And I usually stay out of the way of Summer Hospitality. Previous CEO’s haven’t given a crap about the native peoples living in whatever areas they build their resorts in, but this newest one, Tarquin, is a decent sort. But I will always steal contracts from Spring Corp.” He found his hands balled into fists at the thought of Tamlin once more. With a quick breath, he relaxed his grip until his hands sat limp on the desk once more.

“Why do you two hate each other so much?” Feyre asked.

“There’s a long history,” Mor cut in. He sensed she was trying to save him from the question. Even after eight years, it was still hard. Not so much the loss of his too busy and very judgmental father, but the loss of his loving mother and his ever-happy, brilliant little sister.

“A very long one,” Rhys agreed. “But, currently, he has some shoddy business practices that I can’t abide. He doesn’t look out for his own people and he certainly doesn’t care about who he might be affecting with any of his decisions.”

Rhys stopped himself from a longer rant. There were plenty of reasons to hate Tamlin. The current top of the list being his treatment of Feyre, but if he got into any of that he’d want to go straight over to Spring Corp clear on the other side of the city and drag Tamlin out into the street to be hit by a car. Instead, he turned his smirk back on Feyre.

“But perhaps we should discuss the job at hand. Mor, thank you for your help. I can take things from here,” he shooed his cousin away once more only to have her stick her tongue out at him. With a sigh, Rhys heaved himself up off of the desk and gently took Mor’s arm to lead her towards the elevator. Once at the elevator he pushed her inside and hit the button for her floor. She cackled at him the whole time and then turned to yell at Feyre through the closing doors.

“I’ll be back up to take you out to lunch in three hours. Don’t let him boss you around too much. And don’t stroke his already inflated ego!” 

“Now that she’s gone,” he purred at Feyre. “Let’s start going over the basics.” He went and got his office chair and dragged it out to her desk so they could sit side by side.

“Don’t you have better things to do than teach me?” She asked when he showed her how to open her email. She seemed both genuinely interested in what he might say but also mortified by his personal attention. He wasn’t so sure it was just because of how much attention Tamlin had paid to her either. His instincts told him she felt inadequate when it came to her learning to do anything. She was likely someone who muddled along on her own and didn’t want anyone staring over her shoulder, especially not someone who might have power over her or have the ability to insult her in some way.

Rhys considered her for a long moment, carding through all of the possible answers he could give to her. He could lie and say he wasn’t busy, but he was sure she wouldn’t buy that or she would question his need for an assistant. He could start listing out all of the things he actually had to do in a day, something he would need to do eventually so she could learn his schedule, but he knew that would make her feel rushed and more guilty for his personal attention. Instead he settled for a compromise.

“I’m incredibly busy. Most of the time I’m so busy I wish for something to come along and wipe out the rest of existence so I can get a moment of quiet,” he turned to face her fully. “But I will always make time to help you, Feyre.”

She flushed red but dutifully applied herself to his training after that. He walked her through using the email system they had, the calendar system they used, his daily schedule, and the basics of answering the phone. By the time all of that had been done, Mor had returned to take Feyre out to lunch and Rhys returned to his desk to do some of the things he had neglected while Feyre had held his attention.  
When she returned well after an hour and a half with a giggling Mor, he walked her through the full executive floor including a number of empty offices and the far too large lounge.

“Why all of the empty offices and the lounge for thirty when only six people can come up here without being brought up?” Feyre asked when they looked in the last empty office.

“Each CEO does things a little differently. I keep my group of confidants and executives small. Mor, Cassian, Azriel, and Amren are all welcome to an office up here but they like where they have theirs now. It also keeps limited access up here without them bringing up their meetings as well.” He led her back to her desk and waited for her to sit down. “My three times great grandfather started this company. He built it up until his son built this tower at the same time other companies were building up theirs. I think, at that time, they did have their Boards of Directors up with them and all of their high-ranking mangers.” He sat. “That was the height of the industrial revolution for Prythian where the wealthy kept themselves away from the low-class workers. I can’t say my ancestors were any better.”

“But they started Velaris Incorporated so they must have been somewhat better,” Feyre cut in. “Mor started telling me about all the places you support.”

“Velaris Incorporated was started by my grandmother when she wanted to balance out what evil and greed was turning Prythian into. She wanted to save places for artists, musicians, and local businesses. My grandfather let her and then it was passed down to my mother when my father took over. Tradition would state it should have gone to my wife when I took over but I wasn’t married and I wasn’t interested in getting married when I took over at twenty-two.” Rhys shrugged. “So we run it between us and since we started that, it’s expanded greatly.” 

There was silence for a moment as Rhys considered how much he and his family had grown Velaris. Everyone always had an eye or ear out in different areas. Amren was a lover of fine arts and kept her eyes on small galleries and thus in the artists’ circles in the city. Cassian was a lover of plays. Azriel of music. And Mor loved fashion which had her watching every small boutique in the city. He, himself, kept an eye on the small businesses in the area, always aware of what was being discussed for acquiring them in other business circles. 

“Can I ask a question?” Feyre broke through his thoughts.

“You may always ask questions,” he reminded her. He had reminded her often throughout their training that she should ask any questions that she needed to understand her job.

“You make yourself out to look like some sort of monster, but you aren’t. You said earlier you try and keep that image going, but why? Why do that at all? Why rely on fear to protect your business?” She frowned down at her desk rather than look at him.

He started to answer and then stopped. Why? Why did he continue to portray this image? He wasn’t even sure. His father had been like that to the outside world so much he had become it. His grandfather had died of a heart attack long before Rhys had been born but all of the stories he had been told were similar. They had been good men but vicious in the business world.

“It’s safe, I think,” Rhys finally landed on an answer. “Like an armor you coat yourself or a mask you hide behind. It protects you when this type of work would rip a good man apart. I’ve seen good men fall hard because they come in with the best of intentions and get ground up. Those who survive do so because they thrive in this world either by pretending to be like this,” he waved at himself, “or by already being it.”

“It’s a shame,” Feyre murmured. She rose from her desk and went to stare out the window. Nox Industries had the best view in the city, the executive floor looking out and down over the rest of the city.

“What is?” Rhys asked as he went to join her.

She turned her head just ever so slightly to glance at him, the sunlight reflected in her blue-gray eyes, making them sparkle just a little. “Think of how much life would be different if that didn’t have to be true.”  
In that moment, Rhys knew he was utterly and completely screwed. This beautiful creature in front of him was a dreamer. A dreamer like he was, like his family all were. He had been correct on his instincts to bring her in to his confidence. And Cauldron bless him, he was already hooked on her.

“Maybe one day,” he found himself replying. “Maybe we can make that happen, together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the support! I welcome all kudos, comments, and PM's.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian pranks Feyre

Rhys tried very hard for the next two weeks to not leave Feyre alone for longer than it took him to use the restroom or hold meetings. And even with his meetings, she was in his sight from the glass walls of the conference room. Not that he didn’t trust her. He certainly already did. No, he wanted to make sure he was available if she had questions about her work or the company itself. It seemed Tamlin had never trusted her with any information about Spring Corporation despite having her as a personal assistant. That she didn’t know even what the company did or how large it was, was astounding to Rhys. And it seemed letting her have that information was enough to gain a little of her trust that this was an actual job and not a scheme for him to get in her pants.

It had taken her three full days to even get comfortable enough to ask him anything at all. Another day after that to have a question pressing enough that she hadn’t just waited for him to come and check on her like he tended to do every hour or so. Now he was used to the wonderfully unnerving sensation of feeling her eyes boring into him while he sat at his desk until he looked up to see her in his open doorway waiting to be noticed. She never interrupted and he knew if he asked her to wait, she would go back to her desk and wait until he was no longer busy. It was a luxury most of his family didn’t give him. They usually just bounded it, with a quick greeting to Feyre on their way through, sat in the chair across from his, and started talking. Only Azriel had the patience Feyre seemed to display.

But it happened early on the Friday morning of Feyre’s second week that he found he needed to go see Azriel. His brother was a notoriously early man and Rhys was almost confident that he could get down to Azriel’s office in the basement and then back up to the executive level of the fifty-second floor by the time Feyre would even arrive for work. Already he knew she was very punctual when it came to getting to work. She arrived at her desk at five minutes to 8AM every day. With only ten minutes he knew he was pushing his luck but it wouldn’t hurt for her to be alone for a few minutes before the work day either, so he had gone.

When he arrived on the basement level, his eyes swept over the security guards in their black uniforms getting organized for the day. He knew Cassian was likely somewhere as well, issuing orders or inspecting his teams. He ran them like a general ran the military, and so far it had been effective.

Rhys walked past the monitor room where every security camera fed to and stopped short as he recognized both of his brothers were in there. Azriel, it seemed was fixing a monitor that wasn’t displaying and Cassian… he was far too entranced in one of the monitors. When Rhys moved to look over his shoulder he saw the split screen display of the executive elevator and the camera that looked out on the lobby of the executive level. It encompassed the sitting area mostly, but also captured Feyre’s desk at the very top of the screen. It did not show Rhys’ office though he wouldn’t have cared if it did.

“What are you doing?” Rhys asked.

“There’s a bad connection in the wiring on this monitor,” Azriel nodded to what he was working on. “I think I can fix it but I might need to replace the parts.”

“An important camera?” Rhys asked. Technically they were all important but some more so than others. Some they could live without for the few days it took to get the proper replacement parts, while others he would pay the cost to get things hand delivered to his door within hours.

“Just the second-floor lobby. Nothing we need immediately,” Azriel shrugged.

“And what are you doing?” Rhys turned to Cassian.

“Giving Feyre a proper initiation,” he chuckled as he pointed to where Feyre was getting on the elevator.

Rhys frowned at the monitor. It wasn’t that Feyre was skittish in the least. She was skeptical but certainly not skittish. He didn’t believe for a moment that a prank would convince her to leave or scare her enough into quitting, but she was still in that fragile state of deciding if she liked her job or not. If she trusted them or not. Cassian’s pranks usually tended to wear on trust very quickly and if Feyre did not have the same wicked sense of humor most of them had, it was likely she would not find Cassian’s prank funny. Even if she did have a dark sense of humor, it was possible she would react badly. Cassian had once caught Amren on a bad day and had had her escorted to the tiny holding cell in his office on the charge of being scary. Rhys had spent the better part of a month placating Amren with gifts and by keeping the security guards that had touched her hidden from her sight. Rhys didn’t have enough of a read on Feyre yet to know how she would handle anything Cassian threw at her.

“I want you to think very carefully, my dear brother, if pranking Feyre is worth your life,” Rhys asked quietly. He saw Cassian go very still at the question and then turn to face him. “If she does not take it well and you destroy all of the hard work I’ve put in, I will personally end you.”

“Oh, please,” Cassian snorted. “It’s a harmless prank. Everyone takes them well.”

“Until they don’t,” Azriel reminded him. He gave up on the monitor he was fixing and came to watch the screen alongside Cassian and Rhys.

Rhys waited as he watched the elevator climb and saw Feyre sorting through her purse while she waited. There was nothing, literally nothing, he could do. Even if he called the elevator down, it would drop her off first and then come back for him. All he could do was watch to see what would unfold.

The doors of the elevator opened and Feyre stepped out. Through the very clear image on the monitor he could see her look straight back and frown ever so slightly before she walked to her desk and started to situate herself. Like every morning she removed her company issued cell phone front her purse, set it on the desk, and then locked her purse in the bottom left drawer of her desk. She turned on her computer and while it was booting up, she went to the coffee bar in the sitting area and started to make herself a cup of coffee.

The moment she neared the coffee bar, Cassian began to bounce like a giddy child. Thee was no doubt whatever he had done, it had been to the coffee or the coffee bar itself. Likely Cassian knew her routine already from watching the monitors. Likely it had been for the dual purpose of marking out Feyre’s routine to note any discrepancies in the future but also to mark the perfect times and ways to prank her.  
“Here we go,” Cassian whispered. Feyre had knelt down to open the cabinet under the coffee bar, like she did every morning, to replace the coffee pod she had used and to fish out the powdered creamed and sugar she would put in her coffee. One second the screen was clear and Feyre was visible and the next something burst out of the coffee bar and Feyre was gone in a moving black cloud. The possibilities ran through Rhys’ mind. Was it a smoke bomb? Charcoal powder? Some other dark substance he would need to offer to pay the dry cleaners to remove from her suit?

Slowly the cloud moved outwards and Rhys realized it wasn’t a cloud at all but objects moving through the air, flapping through the air. He adjusted the monitor and he could clearly see one of the flapping objects was a bat. Oh Mother bless him, it was worse than smoke. There were what appeared to be hundreds of bats flying around the sitting area and Feyre was in the middle of it. What it one of them hurt her? Likely she would need rabies shots or to at least go to the hospital to be checked over. On top of her safety, there were hundreds of bats flying around the top floor of his building. There would be droppings to be dealt with and someone would have to help catch and remove all of the bats. And he had a meeting in an hour with some top executives from Dawn Medical about certain contracts.

“Look at how beautiful they are,” Cassian breathed out. “My little babies.”

“I’ll kill you,” Rhys murmured. “You are going to die today after you call Animal Control and clean every dropping from the floor and get it all done before my meeting in an hour.”

“They are just toys, Rhys,” Cassian rolled his eyes. “Relax. There won’t be droppings and in about five minutes they will run out of charge and stop flying.”

“Those are those new high-tech toys from Dawn Medical’s technology counterpart,” Azriel zoomed in and froze the screen on one of them. “Beautiful work if I do say so myself. They move and look like real bats.”  
Rhys looked closer at the bat too. It did look real, but of course it did. Dawn Medical’s technology department, which was pretty much its own company, had started with working in biomechanics. They did all sorts of biomechanical parts for people. He had seen some amazing work in them replacing hands, feet, whole arms, and even eyes that worked just like the real thing, sometimes even better. The fact they were expanding into toys and other technologies meant they could fund themselves better through the public and show a different sort of creativity.

Then Rhys unfroze the screen and zoomed out to find Feyre had not moved. She was so perfectly still that Rhys double checked he had unfrozen the screen. But then she moved, slowly, to put her hand into the cupboard. She pulled her hand back and held one dark bat, half flapping as she turned it over. She stood, set it on her desk, and walked out of the sitting room to the conference room across the lobby without a glance back.

“You’re going to go apologize to her and clean up every little toy out of the sitting room,” Rhys told Cassian. “I want it done five minutes ago.”

“Alright, don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m going,” Cassian laughed as he walked out of the door.

“That was a little harsher than you normally are on him,” Azriel commented as he went back to the monitor he was fixing.

Rhys knew Mor was more than aware he had been drawn to Feyre. That he was spending a little too much effort on her when he wouldn’t have done as much for any other personal assistant. He knew Mor had probably not said anything to the others but it was likely clear to at least Azriel who watched everything with a keen eye.

“I don’t want her to have any reason to hate it here. I want her to stay,” Rhys admitted to Azriel.

“To be completely honest,” he replied with a nod to the monitor. “I get the feeling she’s not about to be scared away.”

The monitor showed Feyre back at her desk, a smirk on her face as she clicked on her mouse. When Rhys looked to the other monitor, he saw Cassian furiously swiping his card. The doors closed but then they would open again as Feyre clicked on her mouse again.

“Well, look at that,” Rhys murmured. Feyre was full on smiling as Cassian tried again and again. No, she certainly wasn’t being scared away by Cassian, or at least not yet. There was a chance he would still need to placate her somehow but watching her get her revenge was enough to make it worth it.

“Are you going to go help him at all?” Azriel asked after a full minute.

“I’m going to give her another minute,” Rhys replied. “I actually came down here to speak to you.”

“Oh?” Azriel set his monitor back down.

“Rumor has it Tarquin has been making inquiries into the operations of Velaris Incorporated. I want to know why.”

“I’ll have the information for you as soon as possible,” Azriel promised.

“Good, now I suppose I’d better save Cassian before he wrecked the elevator,” Rhys waved and went to the elevator door that appeared to be malfunctioning with how much it was opening and closing. He waited until the doors were fully open before he slid in. He watched Cassian swipe his card once more and stole a moment to look up at the camera with a smirk and raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Cassian complained to him. “It worked for Feyre and you this morning. There’s no reason it should have gotten broken between the levels.”

“Maybe it’s your ID card,” Rhys deadpanned. “Here,” he swiped his own card and held his breath as the doors closed. He pressed the button and the elevator started to move.

“I don’t understand,” Cassian whined. “It worked just fine last night!”

Rhys fought the urge to laugh in his brother’s face. He didn’t seem to have considered that Feyre controlled the elevator, though he knew his family were all well aware of Feyre having that ability. They had all approved of it before Azriel had programmed the whole thing for her. It was likely Cassian would remember when they got up to the executive level and saw Feyre at her computer, but until then watching Cassian turn his ID over and over to inspect it for damage was amusing enough.

The doors opened on what appeared to be a bat massacre on the executive level. The few bats still in the air were slowly dropping down to the floor. The ones on the floor were twitching with the last few seconds on their charges. Feyre was not at her desk at all, which was back exactly as it had been before she had returned to deny Cassian access to the elevator. Instead, Feyre was still in the conference room, setting out the folders Rhys had prepared for the meeting.

“I’ll get these cleaned up,” Cassian promised with a nod to the bats.

“Good morning,” Feyre appeared at the conference room door. There was a bright spark in her eyes as she looked to Rhys. “Things got a little, batty, out here so I thought I’d start in here this morning. I’ll get your coffee in a moment.”

“Take your time, Feyre Darling,” Rhys assured her. “Cassian is here to take care of the bat problem.”

“And I’ll get my ID reissued after I get it cleaned up,” Cassian grumbled.

“Something is wrong with your ID?” Feyre asked, sounding simply curious though that spark in her eyes grew.

“It appears the elevator wouldn’t let him up,” Rhys explained with a wink. “When you’re done setting those up, I’ll show you how to lower the projector screen. I’ll be using it for this meeting.”

He watched Cassian clean while Feyre went back to work, and when she was ready he walked into the conference room and let the door close behind him.

“You handled that remarkably well,” he told her as he showed her where the controls for the screen were.

“You did warn me,” she reminded him. “And gave me the idea for revenge.” She stopped a moment. “Should I have let him up after you got on the elevator?” She bit her lip. “I mean, now he thinks he needs a new ID.”

“Not at all. Let him get a new one. It doesn’t cost us more than a fraction of a mark to reissue them and Cassian has no idea at all that you’ve retaliated. He may even expect you to retaliate and now he’ll be left waiting trying to figure out when you’re going to do it,” Rhys laughed. “Now this is how you turn on the projector for the screen.”

After she finished learning all about the screen and projector, Feyre turned to Rhys. “Would it be just absolutely horrible if Cassian’s ID just kept… malfunctioning at random?”  
“Why whatever do you mean, Feyre Darling?” Rhys turned to see that spark back in her eye.

“I mean, perhaps he might need more than one new ID in the future,” she clarified.

“Oh, you cruel, wicked woman. I think you’ll fit right in here,” Rhys chuckled and as he saw the smirk grow on Feyre’s face he couldn’t help but hope she would be as insanely happy to be there as he was to have her at that very moment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys is working late.

Rhys stopped staring at his computer screen to blink his eyes and rub them for a moment. When he looked back the numbers and words on the screen had at least stopped moving on their own accord. A number on the bottom right hand corner of his screen pulled his attention: 8:05 PM. It was late to still be in his office, and it was already dark outside. He had been so busy he had barely noticed when Feyre had come to wave goodbye at the end of her day just over three hours before. And now he was staring at reports trying to find the information he needed and condense it down to a simple bulletin point list for his meeting with the Board of Directors bright and early on Monday morning. The only plus side to his staying late was that it was Friday and he could at least sleep in the following morning.

He truly only had himself to blame for the extra work though. This report was supposed to have been his afternoon work but he had ended up entangling himself in something else completely. He had meant to take a potential business partner to lunch in hopes of wooing their contract away from Spring Corporation. Dressed in his normal custom tailored black suit he had made reservations at one of the most expensive places in the city and had been sent an email two minutes after he had arrived asking him to reschedule to another day. Frustrated, he had agreed and had gone to lunch anyway. There was no need to tarnish his good standing with the wait staff because they had held the best table in the restaurant for him when a good number of crotchety old ladies dressed to the nines were already complaining about it.

During his lunch he had overheard the table next to him planning out their own business deal. A local politician he hadn’t bothered to catch the name of and some wealthy young son of old money with a goal to set up a ski resort in, what he considered, prime skiing country in the northern mountains of Prythian. Rhys had known those mountains well and his ears had perked at the mention of his mother’s homelands. The young man had lamented about the native Illyrians occupying such prime real estate without doing anything profitable with it. Sure, it was considered a reservation, but with some help from the government he could have them shifted away from the mountains.

Rhys had invited himself to their table as soon as he was sure of what had been said. He had pretended to be an interested investor that had happened to overhear what had been said. Despite his darker coloring of his skin and hair, his violet eyes and well kempt appearance tended to distance him from the stereotypical view of an Illyrian. He had let the young man tell him about how exclusive the resort would be, so exclusive he wouldn’t even let the dirty Illyrians look at the property. He would build a wall around it and they wouldn’t be allowed to even work there as groundskeepers or toilet scrubbers. Rhys had nodded along, his anger building as he had listened. He had handed over his business card to the young man asking him to shoot an email or give a call when he had secured the lands and needed investors.

Then Rhys had returned to the office and had told Feyre to reschedule his appointments for the rest of the day and to reschedule his lunch with the man he had meant to meet. She had readily gotten to work and he had cloistered himself in his office to start making calls. Once the Illyrian councils had been warned, and calls had been made to sympathetic politicians, Rhys had made a few other calls to those who sold large real estate and he mentioned that he had heard some of the reservation lands in the north might open. If they did, he would be very interested in giving a competing offer for the lands. If he couldn’t stop dirty politics, he would at least be able to buy out the lands and keep them for the people that they belonged to.

And now, he was stuck at his computer staring at it, trying to get the information straight so he wouldn’t have to do much work over the weekend.

A steaming cup settling in front of him had him starting just ever so slightly. He hadn’t heard the elevator doors or his own door open. Logic told him it had to be Azriel. Azriel was the only other person who ever worked late and he was also very quiet. But when Rhys looked up from the cup of coffee, he swore he had to be dreaming.

Feyre stood before him but not in her work clothes or anything he had ever imagined seeing her in. She was wearing a black, lace, sheath style cocktail dress that hugged her curves beautifully. The half sleeves and higher cut of the neck line marked it slightly more mature despite how much it hugged her body. Her golden-brown hair was no longer braided back, but was left hanging in loose, glossy curls down her shoulders and her back. She had painted up her face with dark shadow to make her gray-blue eyes pop and red lips that made him want to kiss her more than he ever had.

“Don’t you ever stop working?” She demanded, breaking him from his belief it was a dream. If it had been a dream she would have been around the desk already and in his lap so he could admire her from much closer.

“No. I even work in my sleep. The bookshelf folds down into a cot,” he deadpanned.

“I highly doubt that, as it’s glass,” she snorted and tossed herself down in the chair across from him. “Seriously though, aren’t you supposed to go home at some point?”

“Usually, but I have this report that needs to be condensed for my meeting Monday and I put it off all afternoon,” he explained. “The Board of Directors isn’t a group I can just charm. They like to try and slip things past me and lie about different numbers to get what they want. I need to make sure I’m well aware of this entire report or they might succeed.”

Feyre nodded along as she listened, her head tilted to the side. It exposed her neck and he found himself trying not to stare. He saw her neck every day with how she always wore her hair braided, but for some reason the way her hair was now made him want to kiss the soft skin there. He could imagine the scent of her perfume concentrated there mixed with the scent of her hair. He could imagine the taste of her.

Rhys shook himself from the thoughts. They were dangerous and he was clearly tired if he was having them. In the month since Feyre had started, they had become comfortable enough as boss and assistant. She had abandoned calling him Mr. Nox. She had stopped waiting to be acknowledged to go further than the open door when dropping things off with him. She had even called him ‘prick’ probably several hundred times for flirtatious comments he had sent her way. She had less polite things to say to Cassian when he had ventured a flirt or two, telling Rhys she at least didn’t mind him too much. So, he didn’t want to destroy whatever comfort they had together by having inappropriate thoughts. He did not want her comparing him to Tamlin in the least.

“Is there something I can do to help?” She asked, completely honest and prepared to do whatever he asked though she was certainly not dressed for any sort of work.

“The coffee will help,” he nodded to the cup she had brought him. He raised it to his lips and sighed as he tasted how perfect it was. It was simply black coffee but he loved it more when it came from Feyre. “So, what has you all dressed up tonight?”

“Oh, this old thing?” She waved at the dress with a tease. Then she sighed. “I’m not surprised you didn’t know though Mor and Cassian have been trying to get the details all day. You’ve been so busy. I had a date.”

Rhys felt like he had been punched in the gut. Feyre had started dating. While she had been away from Tamlin for three months and it was reasonable to attempt to move on, he had almost hoped she would find some reason to want him as badly as he wanted her. But he hadn’t done more than flirt, slightly, with her. And he had no reason to believe she would ever want him since he was her boss.

Then something drew his eye again, that little clock in the bottom right corner of his screen. It read 8:15 PM. Feyre had gotten off of work at 5. Then he knew she took the bus home, which usually took her half an hour. Even if she had gotten a taxi to go faster, it would have only saved her ten minutes at that time of day. If she had gotten home at 5:30, she would have had to get ready for her date which seemed to be something she had spent time on. Her hair didn’t look like it was naturally curly which meant she had needed to curl it. She had needed to spend time on her make up. She had likely spent time on other things he did not want to think about only because it would redirect his mind back to unsafe topics. Then she would have needed to get to wherever the date was. She likely hadn’t met with her date until 7. If that was the case, she hadn’t been out very long.

“It must have gone exceptionally well if you are here with me, asking to help with my work,” he flashed her a smirk knowing it would goad her.

“Oh, he was an ass,” she rolled her eyes. “Better to spend my evening with a giant Prick instead.”

“Do tell how this man failed so badly,” Rhys leaned in. He needed to know half because he wanted to hear what turned her off but he also wanted to know so he could find his own sick, twisted, pleasure in it. 

“He had me meet him at some fancy place, probably not too far from here. Tried to impress me with how everyone knew who he was. Likely they wouldn’t have known a damned thing about him if he wasn’t practically shouting it for attention. Ended up buying some super expensive bottle of champagne to celebrate the start of our relationship. Before we even got past eating the salads that were brought out, he started asking about you.” She fidgeted in her chair.

“What about me?” Rhys felt his instincts perk.

“What sort of work I did for you, what you were currently working on, if I could let him up just to see the Great Rhysand Nox’s office,” she shook her head. “I tried to turn the topic away from my work and he kept coming back to it. I almost let it slide since you’re so fascinating and all,” she drawled. “But then he started nitpicking about me ordering steak. Proper ladies ordered salads and didn’t drink more than one glass of champagne.” She sighed. “I excused myself to the restroom, found the waiter, paid for my meal, and left. He’s probably still sitting there.”

“I’m sorry,” Rhys found himself apologizing. Half because he hated that her evening had been soured by some man that was trying to get information on him and half because she had found herself a grade A jackass.

“It’s not your fault,” she shrugged. “So, how can I help?”

“You know,” Rhys pushed his chair back and stood. “I am in need of dinner and it sounds like you didn’t get much of one. Perhaps we could order some take out and you can talk about anything that isn’t work. I think I need a break.”

“That sounds wonderful. I know just the place,” Feyre stood and left his office to go to her desk. She grabbed a clutch off of her desk and pulled out her cell phone to make a call, then she returned a couple of minutes later. “Twenty minutes,” she announced. “It was thirty but then I said your name and magically ten minutes was knocked off the time. Does that happen often?”

“Yes. It’s a side effect of being wealthy, owning a company that could easily crush whoever I wish, and the mean reputation I keep with the media and my peers,” he smiled at her. “Sometimes it’s handy but I try and avoid using it too much outside of work purposes. Does your name get you anywhere? Any place you frequent where they know exactly who you are?” Where did Feyre spend her time outside of work? What were her interests?

“I doubt anyone knows my name. And throwing around my last name may only get you more enemies. My family line does not have a good reputation in the business world.” She shook her head.  
“Oh? Are you telling me I should do an internet search on Archeron to see if you are a threat to me?” Rhys turned to his computer and pulled up the internet browser. He was halfway through typing the last name when Feyre started talking.

“My father, and his father, and apparently his father were all big financial advisors here in Prythian. Turns out they talked a big game but were rolling in their own debts. When my mother died, my father started drinking and stopped working so much. Then he stopped working altogether and all of the debts caught up to him. Turns out a lot of people weren’t happy with him and one went so far as to break into our apartment we had moved to and shattered his leg.” She shuddered and Rhys found himself horrified. Not so much at the loss of fortune but at the fact he knew somewhere in his mind that Feyre had witnessed that man hurting her father in that way. “So using my last name anywhere likely won’t get you more than extra charges on your bill.”

“What happened to your father?” Rhys asked.

“His alcoholism caught up to his not so great heart and he had a bad heart attack. He was gone before I even got him to the hospital.” She turned to look out the window.

“Feyre,” he breathed out. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s alright. It’s been a few years now and really, thanks to you, I can finally afford to pay to pick up his ashes and have him buried with my mother.” She gave him a soft smile that made his heart race. “So, I should be thanking you.”

Rhys bowed his head. He had known so many women who would have taken the salary he had given and they would have run to buy themselves fancy cars and new wardrobes. Some would have gone and bought out jewelry stores or decorated expensive penthouse condos with too luxurious of items. Feyre hadn’t changed her address since she had started working. She hadn’t bought a car. She didn’t wear jewelry or anything outside of the clothes Mor had helped her buy on his money for work, with the exception of the dress she seemed to be wearing now. But she had spent money to buy her father’s remains when the man likely had been the cause of many of her stresses in life.

“Feyre, I don’t know what I did to deserve you coming into my life,” he breathed out finally. Already he was incredibly humbled by her.

“Well, you put up with my inability to write or read quickly and haven’t told Cassian that I’m the one that keeps his ID from working on the elevator every two to three days,” she gave him a playful smirk. 

“You’re dyslexic; it’s not an issue that you need time. And we can try and find other ways to help you read and write better if you wish. As far Cassian,” he full on laughed. “I get amusement from him complaining about his ID being defective. So again, I am wondering what I did to deserve you.”

“You’ll get tired of me eventually. Everyone always does,” she stood and made for the door.

“I could never get tired of you, Feyre Darling. I know that for a fact,” he stood too and followed her as she went out to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

She seemed about to reply when the elevator doors opened and Feyre turned to smile as Azriel walked into the lobby with two large pizza boxes in his hands.

“Someone order delivery?” Azriel asked.

“That was much faster than twenty minutes,” Rhys looked between them.

“Don’t look at me. I just answered the door,” his brother shrugged.

“I wouldn’t doubt it’s because you are sooooo scary,” Feyre laughed. “Come on, Az, there’s plenty. I figured you’d be up shortly anyway.”

“What? Why did you figure he would come up?” Rhys demanded as he followed Feyre to the lounge alongside Azriel.

“Who do you think she called to figure out if the lights normally get left on up here this late?” Azriel teased. “And for the record, I was just finishing up this.” He slipped a folder into Rhys’ hands.

Rhys opened the folder and looked at the contents. He almost could have shed tears. Azriel had condensed the entire report he had been trying to read into two pages of numbers and bullet points along with another two pages of what would be of interest to each single board member.

“I know I don’t have a lot of love for our people,” Azriel dropped his voice down so it didn’t carry to Feyre. “But I still appreciate what you did today.”

“I haven’t saved anything yet,” Rhys tried to remind him.

“But you did more than anyone else ever has or will. Cassian is grateful too so I don’t doubt you’ll have donuts in your office on Monday,” he explained. “If he can get his ID to work in the elevator.” The last part he spoke louder so Feyre could hear. She flashed them both an evil smile.

“Why would I turn down donuts?” She asked. “Especially if I were to be bribed with one.”

“And which donut, Feyre Darling, would be best to bribe you with?” Rhys asked as he moved to sit next to her at one of the tables. The pizza smelled utterly divine and he knew Azriel had no qualms about the toppings as he took half a pizza for himself.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out,” Feyre challenged.

“I think I can play this game, Feyre,” he responded.

“But I’m not helping you on this one,” Azriel cut in.

“What?” Rhys turned to his brother in mock hurt. “How could you not help your own brother out? I thought we were family.”

“Turns out I like her better. Your fault for hiring her you know,” Azriel gave one of his rare smiles to Feyre who beamed at him.

“Still grateful for me now?” Feyre teased Rhys.

“Always, Feyre, always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like making excuses but I want all of the readers invested in this story to understand. I don't post on a schedule. I write when I can sit down at my computer between 10 hour work days, volunteering, and a 17 month old son who likes to spin my chair and turn off my computer monitor. Thank you for sticking with me even if I can't be timely. I appreciate all reviews and kudos. Please also feel free to tell me what you are hoping to see. Maybe it will inspire me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little about Rhys' past and Illyrians. Trigger warnings for mention of abuse and contemplation of suicide.

Rhys stared up at the bathroom mirror looking at the violet eyes that stared back at him. His midnight black hair stood up at angels from where he had been tugging at it. His hands trembled slightly as he released the sink. A bad day, that’s all it was. A very bad day.

Something red flashed behind him and he flinched only to look back and discover it was the little light in the smoke detector, not… her.

When Rhys had first taken over his father’s place, right after his father had died, he had been a bit overwhelmed. The Board of Directors hadn’t wanted anything to do with him and had fought him for control. His father, mother, and sister were suddenly gone from his life. And all he wanted to do was take his mother’s side of the business, Velaris Incorporated, and grow it to bring some beauty back to the world. His adoptive brothers and Mor had tried to help him but they hadn’t had positions in the company yet and all had their own schooling or work to do. He struggled but he hadn’t realized the worst had yet to come.

To the west of Prythian was an island called Hybern. The place was desolate and the land was overworked. The government had given way to the big corporations well before and had slowly chipped at the people’s rights until there was no hope for the people there. Few left because they couldn’t afford to get that far and often the government imprisoned those trying to leave. Able-bodied workers were not to go anywhere.

On that island one corporation had become the supreme ruler. The CEO at the top was dubbed the King of Hybern because whatever he said went. While he wasn’t officially in a government position, all he had to do was point and his whims were fulfilled. Unsatisfied with the dying industry in his drained lands, he had started looking to the east to Prythian and had sent… her. Amarantha Scarlett.

Rhys’ father had mentioned Amarantha a time or two before his untimely death but she had been denied access to the company. Other large companies had had problems with her once she had wormed her way in. Rumors of hostages and deaths when CEO’s and board members disagreed with her followed in her wake. How much of it was true, a young Rhys would have questioned. The red-haired woman held a cold face and a special place in Spring Corp, or she had when Tamlin’s father had been alive. Tamlin, it seemed, hadn’t had the care for her his father had and had kicked her out.

She had turned her eyes then to the son of the man that had apparently cost her the partnership with Spring. Rhys had tried to keep her at bay but she had found her way in with some of his board members and with his father’s inner circle that wanted nothing to do with a half-breed owner and CEO. So Amarantha had found her way in and Rhys had been left scrambling to cover his behind. Mementos of his family and friends had been wiped from his office. His computer and phone were scrubbed of every trace of humanity in him. And every file for Velaris had been tucked away in the most encrypted and deeply hidden files he could muster. But it hadn’t been enough, so Rhys had done the first and only thing he could think of. He had offered himself to Amarantha and for some reason that had distracted her enough to keep her from looking too much more into him.

At that time in his life, he had stopped talking to his family to protect them. He had stayed away and had cut all ties with anything good. Instead he had devoted his time to trying to keep Amarantha from looking too deep into his world by providing her with as much pleasure as she had been able to stand. He had done his best to minimize the damages she was reeking on his company and the people beyond, but he hadn’t been able find a way to get rid of her.

Amarantha had been insatiable and her favorite thing to do had been inflict pain with pleasure. She had gotten off on drawing blood leaving bruises. She had left him physically unable to move some days with what had given her pleasure, but he had kept pressing forward until he almost couldn’t take it anymore. Suicide had become a constant thought on his mind and for the year she had controlled his life, it became the way he thought to escape.

A year from the first day he had knelt before Amarantha, he had stood on the roof of Nox Industries with every intention of jumping off the ledge. He had sent out notices to his family then, telling them just enough for them to know he didn’t have other options. Just as he had been about to step off the ledge he had been tackled by one very pissed off Cassian. The man had apparently been storming the entire building looking for him to give him a piece of mind about just abandoning them for so long when he had gotten the message. 

Sporting a black eye from Cassian’s brotherly admonishing, Rhys had been hauled home and had faced his family. It was then that Azriel had unleased himself full force on the world, hacking every single system until he had secured the information about Amarantha actually having hostages. He had found incriminating messages about the things she had threatened to gain control. Then Mor had found him Amren, a cut-throat lawyer that had faced down mafia and left them begging for mercy. Between Azriel’s information and Amren’s legal knowledge, the two of them had left Amarantha in prison with a sentence that would span well past her life without bringing anything she had done to him into it.

Rhys had spent several weeks meeting with a psychologist daily but what had truly helped was his family. So when he had returned to work he had used Amren and Azriel to weed out every conspirator with Amarantha had flushed them from the company. Then he had bought all of those open shares with his own fortune and had handed them over to his family to give them majority share holdings and positions within the company.

But there were still triggers, years later. He wasn’t fond of the color red. He couldn’t abide it in his office or his bedroom. He didn’t like to be touched by just anyone. And he really couldn’t stand women who used their power to try and get to him.

Today it had been all of those things. One of the women in a trade deal he had been involved in negotiating had shoved her way into his office after leaving the conference room. He had heard Feyre’s protest outside of the door as the woman had pushed her aside. Then the red-haired woman had advanced on him, almost prowling to get to him and had started talking about the trade possibilities if he was willing to work with her. She had started unbuttoning her blouse and had taken his hand to trail it over her exposed cleavage. He had taken his hand back rather quickly and had tried to get her to leave but she had been relentless even as he hid his discomfort behind the cold mask that had become his crutch.

Cassian had arrived shortly after, to remove her by force after Feyre had called him. And when Rhys was assured that she and everyone else had left, save Feyre, he had retreated to the bathroom to have his panic in quiet and to remind himself that Amarantha was gone and unable to do anything to him or the people he loved.

A knock on the door made him straighten. He didn’t want to face anyone like this, not even his family which would be the only people with access to him on this floor.

“Rhys?” Feyre’s voice came through the door. “Should I go get someone for you? Mor?”

He drew back from the sink and the mirror, trying to straighten his appearance. “No, I just need a minute. Thank you.” It came out far colder than he meant it but that was indeed his crutch when it came to this sort of panic.

“It’s been sixty minutes,” Feyre’s voice held an edge that told him she wasn’t about to take his excuses. It made him almost smile. “What can I do to help?”

Rhys opened the door and stared down at Feyre, she was staring right back up at him, taking him in, assessing him as he often assessed her. Concern traced frim her eyes to her mouth but she didn’t reach between them though he could feel her wanting to. He closed the space between their bodies and pulled her into a hug. She stiffened at the sudden contact and then returned his embrace.

“Are you okay?” She asked when it became a far too long hug. But Rhys wasn’t sure he was and not for the previous reasons. With Feyre against him that wasn’t a concern in the least. But his mind was focused solely on how her body fit so perfectly against his, on how she smelled so intoxicatingly good, on how he wanted nothing more than to stand like this with her for the rest of his life. “Rhys?” She pressed when he hadn’t responded in what she had apparently deemed an acceptable amount of time.

“I will be,” he replied and forced himself to let her go. “Thank you for calling security.”

“Well, you didn’t look comfortable and I certainly don’t appreciate being stepped around like I’m a piece of furniture,” she admitted. “The nerve of some people.”

“Indeed.” He replied. “Do I have anything else on the schedule for the rest of the day?”

“A phone conference with Dawn Medical in three hours. That’s all I have on my end,” she responded quickly.

“Good, that’s doable. Have you had lunch yet?” He reached down and took her hand, wanting to keep her close.

“No,” she admitted though it was well past the time she normally took lunch. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“What did you bring today?” He asked. She normally brought very basic things for lunch like sandwiches and an apple. Certainly not the left overs Cassian tended to bring that proved he was by far the best cook of the group. Not the salads and overstuffed subs that Azriel lived on. And not the frozen meals that Mor devoured in twos and threes, claiming they were too small of portions though Azriel pointed out that was the point. And no one knew what Amren ate down in her office and no one questioned it after Cassian had once claimed to smell blood.

“One of Mor’s frozen meals smelled so good the other day, I thought I’d try one,” she turned to lead him towards the lounge.

“Perhaps you can try that tomorrow. Let’s go out somewhere. I didn’t bring a lunch today,” he lied. He had a lunch, some dish his two house maids had whipped up. They were great cooks on top of being wonderful at keeping his house clean and they had been with him since just before his family had been taken from him. They had been the two people that had witnessed the utter destruction of what Amarantha had done to him.

“Where do you want to go?” She asked turning to walk to her desk.

Rhys thought hard about where he wanted to take Feyre. He could take her to some fancy place by town car or limo where everyone would cater to him as was expected of him, but then again, he didn’t really want to expose Feyre to that side of him more than he already did. Instead he wanted to show her something different. He wanted to show her something a little more personal to him.

“Have you ever tried Illyrian food?” He asked. She paused at her desk midway to grabbing her purse.

“Isn’t that what Cassian brings practically every day?”

“Yes,” Rhys nodded. “He’s probably the only one of us that can cook it properly but sometimes Azriel can whip up a dish or two.”

“So they introduced you to it?” She asked as she resumed grabbing her purse.

“My mother did. She was Illyrian and taught Cassian and Az how to cook. I apparently lack the ability,” he smiled at her when she turned back to him.

“I suppose that’s why you share some of their coloring,” she murmured more to herself than to him. “I don’t think I actually know anything about Illyrians.”

“A backwards people in the north,” Rhys admitted. “Back when this land was mostly tribes, before so called civilization, they were a warmongering people. The men still train as warriors though battle is something they will likely never see again and the women are to be bearers of children and keep house.” Rhys steered her towards the elevator. “Women who try to escape the life are usually caught, dragged back kicking and screaming, and beaten into submission. They like their pure blood lines almost more than the people here.” He waved at the air around him to indicate mostly the building but also the world beyond it.

“I never understood that,” Feyre admitted. “Mixing cultures can be good and I have to say, can produce some very good-looking people.”

“Then you are a better person than most,” Rhys told her, tucking away the compliment in his heart. There was a chance she hadn’t meant him but the smirk on her face told him she had. “My mother wanted out when she was young. She felt there was more than raising children in a hut in the mountains to a man who fought others all day. She tried to escape and was dragged back by the warriors of her clan. My father had been visiting that day, setting up a trade deal with their clan leader for some access to their resources in exchange for supplies. Never marks, Illyrians don’t trade in marks. He saw them tying her to a whipping post and put a stop to it. Made her freedom one of the conditions of the trade and brought her home.”

“So they married after that?” Feyre asked.

“No. My mother worked as a seamstress for a while, she was quite talented and my father ran into her again when he needed one of his suits fixed. He always said he had made up his mind on her when he had witnessed her trying to fight off those warriors trying to tie her to the post. So I suppose it wasn’t coincidence he found her again, and again, and again until he convinced her to dinner, and then more.” Rhys shrugged. “My mother always said he was persistent and stubborn, traits my sister and I inherited.”

Rhys led Feyre to the parking ramp where his car was under constant guard. While he usually took town cars or limos when he needed to make an impression at work and beyond, he liked driving himself about. His little black sports car sat in the most monitored spot in the entire parking ramp. With a flourished bow he opened the door for Feyre only to hear her snort.

“So how do Azriel and Cassian fit in if Illyrians don’t really leave that area?” Feyre asked when he got into the driver’s seat.

“Remember what I told you about pure blood lines?” Rhys asked, setting the car in motion. He saw her nod out of the corner of his eye. “They also really care about your lineage. Cassian’s mother was some poor washer woman who was likely attacked by one of the men of her clan. Since Cassian was born a bastard, he was cast out and taken to another clan shortly after he could walk. The point was for him to die in the wilderness, but the stubborn bastard survived. I met him when my mother brought me to her old clan to teach me the ways of my people. I think the Illyrian in her wasn’t too thrilled when I dragged Cassian back home with me that night rather than let him sleep out in the cold again. But she still took him in and my father wasn’t too concerned with another mouth to feed.” Rhys sighed. His father really hadn’t known Cassian had been in their house until he had been there for five years. By then it had been fact, just like Azriel.

“That’s horrible,” Feyre murmured. “How many get cast out to die?”

“Enough that someone sweeps the mountain side to try and find younglings before they get in too much trouble,” Rhys assured her. “My mother’s idea after I asked the same thing.”

“And Az?” Feyre asked.

“Az was born to a man with a high rank, and to someone who wasn’t his wife. His wife got mad and set her two vicious sons on him to make sure his life was a misery. They did—terrible things to him really. Some sort of compassion must have existed in someone in that house because he was turned loose a couple years after I met Cass. My mother took him in, apparently his mother was a friend of hers back in the day. So, we became brothers of sorts. Raised and educated alongside each other. My mother probably blamed every gray hair on us.”

“I couldn’t imagine the three of you in one house,” Feyre shuddered.

“We’ve even gotten better,” Rhys chuckled. “Likely because we don’t live together anymore.”

“Your mother must have been a saint.”

“She was,” Rhys admitted. His mind wandered back to his mother. To her dark hair, dark skin, and hazel eyes. The same coloring Azriel and Cassian bore; the coloring of most Illyrians. She had been a beautiful woman inside and out, strong, and very talented with a needle and thread.

Feyre let the silence remain between them as he finished driving them to a small little restaurant at the very edge of the district. The unassuming little white building didn’t scream restaurant at all but Rhys knew the place well. He parked the car in the small side lot and led Feyre into the tiny dining room. The large woman behind the counter recognized him immediately.

“Rhysand! It’s not Saturday!” She reminded him as he led Feyre up to the counter.

“I come here most Saturdays unless I have an event,” Rhys explained when Feyre quirked an eyebrow. “Sevinda makes quite a few different dishes from lesser known cultures, but she excels at Illyrian in ways Cassian could only hope to duplicate.” He paused for a second, looking up at the board behind the counter. Sevinda changed the menu daily to different dishes and he scanned until he found the two Illyrian dishes she had out for the day. “Do you mind if I order for you?” He asked, realizing Feyre wouldn’t exactly know what she was ordering but that she also might still want that sort of control. He doubted Tamlin had let her have much control at all.

“You’re not going to find me the spiciest thing on the menu, are you?” She demanded. Sevinda laughed.

“That is more Cassian’s style than dear Rhysand’s,” the happy woman informed Feyre. He saw something spark in Feyre’s eyes at the words.

“Alright, I’ll bow to your expertise this time,” she announced.

“Have a seat,” he waved at the small dining room. There were only a few tables but it would give her some control back while he ordered.

“Pretty woman,” Sevinda murmured at him.

“Beautiful truly. My personal assistant, Feyre,” he explained. “Thought I’d introduce her to something new.”

“Uh huh,” came to snort of disbelief and he couldn’t help but grin.

Sevinda had been his mother’s first acquisition into Velaris Incorporated. The woman wasn’t Illyrian but she had been sympathetic to his mother’s plight before she had married his father. His mother had taught her the Illyrian dishes herself and the few Illyrians that had left the mountains often found their way to Sevinda’s. Rhys had been coming to her restaurant since he had been born and then his brothers had come and now it was tradition to come at least once a week. The woman knew him as well as his own mother had and would know Feyre was not just his personal assistant. He usually came alone or came with his family. There was never anyone new.

With two styrofoam containers in hand, Rhys found Feyre peering out one of the windows. He set the containers down and offered Feyre a plastic fork.

“No fancy plates and silverware here?” She teased. “I thought all of you wealthy CEOs couldn’t function without proper dining.”

“You’d find proper plates and silverware just robs you of the experience, Feyre Darling,” he purred at her. “I figured I’d let you try both and see which one you liked better. I like both so I’m fine with whichever you don’t want.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and dug her fork into one container and then the other. She considered for a moment and then a spark of mischief entered her eyes. “What if I like both?”

“Then I’m going to go order more.” He winked at her, rose, and made to walk to the counter.

“I was teasing, Prick,” she caught his arm and then let go immediately.

“And if you truly want both, I wasn’t teasing,” he saw the look of guilt cross her face. She really did like both and he supposed he could have split the dishes with her equally but they didn’t have to. “Take one home for dinner tonight or lunch tomorrow,” he assured her. He gave her a gentle smile and then went back to the counter. It was truly something that made him feel very good inside that Feyre liked this food. When he returned with another container, she appeared to have thought the better of arguing with him but he didn’t doubt for a second she would retaliate somehow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys faces Tamlin.

When Feyre had been working for Rhys for nearly three months, he was fairly certain things were going well. They understood each other and he was able to add a few more things to her load as she learned more and more how to cope with her dyslexia, and Feyre was very willing to help him as much as possible. They had a good back and forth that usually ended with her calling him Prick, but even that name brought a smile to his face. That spark of fire that had been smothered in Feyre had come roaring back and he saw it most when they bantered or when Cassian was on the receiving end of Feyre and the elevator, something he had yet to figure out.

But as Rhys stared at his computer screen detailing his meetings scheduled for the day, he cursed rather violently and feared for his relationship with Feyre. He had known, somewhere in his mind, that he had a morning meeting with Spring Corp. He had known since Amren had come to brief him on the threat of a lawsuit from Tamlin’s lawyers. He and Amren were basically to meet right at eight in the lobby and head straight to Spring Corporation’s headquarters in one of the more impressive limos at his disposal. With Amren at his side, he wouldn’t need a single security guard escorting him and he honestly didn’t need one. It made more of a statement when he walked into Tamlin’s territory without one when Tamlin made a point to travel with at least one or two at any given moment.

He had kept this meeting away from Feyre’s attention. Mentioning Tamlin or Spring Corporation at all usually left her quiet and dampened that fire in her and Rhys couldn’t stand that even if sometimes it was only for a moment or two. But when Feyre would come in, he’d already be on his way to leave and she would come up and see the meeting on the calendar. Perhaps he could convince her to forgive him by offering to take her to Sevinda’s again. They had already gone on Tuesday as had become a tradition for them, but he didn’t think it would be difficult to convince her to go again.

If anything, it was Friday and this was the end of this week. He could skip out a little early and possibly convince Feyre she could as well. Anytime he had to deal with Tamlin personally it was draining enough that he usually cut out early.

He let out a long sigh, stood, and straightened his suit jacket and tie. He needed to be immaculate when he faced Tamlin. It was all part of the game they played. He dropped a note on Feyre’s desk, written not in his normal elegant script but large block lettering that was easier for her to decipher, apologizing and offering lunch when he returned. Then he went down the elevator to meet Amren.

The ride to Spring Corp was quiet, as it often was with Amren. She didn’t fill silence with chatter and that was normally fine with him, but today he could have used the distraction. His mind kept drifting to Feyre, arriving at work, getting her coffee, and seeing where he was going on the calendar. 

“They have nothing, Rhys,” Amren told him as they came to the front doors of Spring Corp. He only nodded. He knew that and he trusted Amren in her knowledge, but it didn’t help him feel better as he mounted the steps of the overly opulent white stone and glass skyscraper that belonged to his rival.

The lobby was immaculate white marble accented with gold decorations, a bubbling fountain in the center, and roses everywhere. Planters and vases full of roses on every surface filling the air with their cloying scent. He saw Amren wrinkle her nose in distaste as they walked straight up to the receptionist. Amren’s chin came up just over the white marble counter but the girl behind the counter didn’t make the mistake of her being a child.

“Tell Tamlin and his failures for lawyers their 8:30 has arrived and we don’t like being kept waiting,” she stared the girl down and Rhys only slid his hands into his pockets to watch the exchange. There was no need to speak when Amren seemed so inclined to do so.

“P-please wait o-over there,” the girl stuttered and pointed to a few stone benches surrounded by even more roses. Rhys led Amren over there but neither sat while the girl made a call and spoke in frantic tones to whoever was on the other end.

Within a minute two security guards came for them and Rhys was able to catch their names on their tags: Bron and Hart. Part of him wanted to ask them if they had witnessed what had been done to Feyre and if they had tried to help her at all, but he thought the better of it as he got in the elevator. An old style keypad from a telephone stood out above the floor numbers and Rhys almost chuckled as Bron and Hart closed in front of it while one of them entered in the proper code to grant them access to the executive floor. Rhys could have told them it was unnecessary. Each number made a specific tone when touched and as the elevator started to move, Amren struck.

“The first day of spring, somewhat clever,” she murmured.

“Excuse me?” Bron turned to face Amren and almost blanched at her serpentine smile.

“0-3-2-0, the first calendar day of spring. A clever code for a company with the season’s name,” she shrugged. “Or perhaps you didn’t realize that when you were taught the code.”

Rhys smirked but didn’t allow himself to laugh at the look both guards exchanged. He knew it had been the code since the day the elevator had been put in place. He knew every guard was easily aware of the code and that everyone at Spring, including Tamlin, were creatures of habit. Now that Amren had revealed the code in front of him, their enemy, they would need to change it. It would cause months of inconvenience as everyone tried to remember the new code.

The thought kept him company as he followed the guards through what his executive level used to look like before he had remodeled. The conference room he was shown to was identical to the one Feyre had interviewed in down to the brown executive chairs and the mahogany conference table. Seeing it now, he was glad he had remodeled. He actually liked the openness of the new design much better.  
Rhys took a seat at the head of the table, likely where Tamlin liked to sit by how stiff the guards had become. Good, let Tamlin be frustrated by having to sit in a different chair. 

“I’m going to go locate those good for nothing lawyers,” Amren announced and slipped out beyond the guards. They didn’t make to follow her which told Rhys they were simply there because of him and him alone. He paid them no mind as he looked around taking in the room.

His eyes scanned the table looking for dust or something to comment on when Tamlin came in but they snagged on scratches partway up the table. Ten of them spaced just far enough apart to tell him a woman had had her hands on the table and had been dragged backwards a few inches. Logic told him those nail marks could have belonged to anyone but his heart knew they were Feyre’s. It didn’t look like they had come from a pleasant encounter either. He slowly moved his eyes up off of the marks and scanned the rest of the room, stopping at a dent in the plaster at just the right height and the right size to have been Feyre’s head. His hands curled into fists under the table just as the door opened.

“Didn’t bring a lawyer, Rhysand?” Tamlin’s voice was cold as he entered the room with his lackey at his side. Rhys glanced once to Lucien Vanserra taking in his red hair, the brutal scar down the left side of his face, and the gold biomechanical eye the moved about in its socket just like the other. One of the many marvels of Dawn Medical.

“Amren went to locate your lawyers. She doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” Rhys informed the men. He noted the look of annoyance before Tamlin took a seat far from him and Lucien moved to stand at the wall at his back.

“It’s only 8:35,” Tamlin snorted.

“And we were to meet at 8:30, your punctuality hasn’t improved,” Rhys pretended to check over his manicured fingernails at the hope of looking bored. “She saw no need to extend these trivial matters and since you didn’t deem to appear on time…” he shrugged.

“You’re fairly calm for a man about to be sued for all he’s worth,” Tamlin gave him a feral smile and Rhys could only smirk back.

“That remains to be seen, Tammy Boy.” He knew the name would send Tamlin into a rage. It always had and it would be doubly as annoying coming from him as the enemy than it had coming from Tamlin’s brothers years before.

“Can we interest you in coffee, tea, water?” Lucien asked, his hand on Tamlin’s shoulder, likely reminding him to keep his cool.

“No, thank you. I didn’t peg you for the personal assistant type, Lucy,” he turned to the red-haired man. “Though you might be pretty enough to tempt Tammy Boy. I know he likes his personal assistants submissive and fuckable.”

“Unfortunately, I had to fire my last personal assistant,” Tamlin spoke before Lucien could. “She was under-educated and a pity case on my part. I should have thought better of the situation.”

“Ah yes, Ms. Archeron,” Rhys spoke her name and all four men flinched. He had debated about mentioning her. Had truly weighed the pros and cons of saying her name in front of Tamlin but if it hurt any of them then it would be worth it. 

“What do you know of her?” Lucien demanded.

“She makes a mean cup of coffee and gives me a nice view while I work,” Rhys shrugged. “Such a pretty thing. I won’t be making the same mistake that you did in firing her.”

“YOU?” Tamlin stood, flipping his chair over. “She went to you?”

“She found sanctuary with Nox Industries,” Rhys gave his smirk. “Who was I to turn her away in her time of need? Such a delicious morsel,” he murmured.

Rhys had a second to blink before Tamlin was in front of him, attempting to lift him from the ground by the lapels of his suit jacket. “If you so much as touch her-”

“Perhaps we are the ones that should be filing for a lawsuit,” Amren’s cold voice cut through the air. “Assault doesn’t look so nice on a record, does it Tamlin?” Her silver eyes met Tamlin’s and the man let Rhys go. “Your lawyers agreed you had no case. There’s no evidence pointing to anything illegal other than your word. And I wouldn’t take your word for anything.” She met Rhys’ gaze as he finished straightening his jacket once more. “If you waste our time with more frivolous lawsuit threats, we will be filing for assault and I will be sending you an invoice for my time. Come along, Rhysand, I’m sure we have more important things to do.” She turned and went out the door and Rhys went to follow.

He paused at the door as something drew his eyes to the handle. The inside handle. There were scratch marks in the wood around the deadbolt and the handle. Proof someone had tried to get out. Never before had he wanted to use the training that had been drilled into his head by his Illyrian trainers. Never before had he wanted to take a man and throw him down the polished length of the conference table before him. 

“How do you like my sloppy seconds?” Tamlin asked, keeping him in place for a moment longer. “Does she still make that little noise right before she cums?”

“With me, it’s not little,” Rhys fired back over his shoulder and walked out the door.

“Tam, no!” He heard Lucien yell and then something hard slammed into his back. He hit the floor hard and rolled the executive chair off of his back before he lifted himself up. His body ached in ways that told him he was bruised because those damned chairs were heavy, but nothing was broken.

“I’ll have those charges delivered within the hour,” Amren came to his side slide her arm through his.

“Wait,” Lucien chased after them. “Is there anyway I can get you to forget this? He’s been… stressed… since Feyre left.”

“Interesting,” Rhys murmured. “I thought you said she was fired.”

“If you were a smart man, Lucien Vanserra, and I know you were at one point since you left your no good family, you’d stop defending him and let him face the consequences of his actions. Who knows when he might see fit to turn his eyes on a new favorite punching bag now that Feyre has found somewhere else to be?” Amren turned her eyes on Lucien and he recoiled but not far.

“Please,” he whispered the word.

“No,” Amren growled. “Get your boss into anger management. It will serve him better than another million marks.”

She steered Rhys out and straight down to the limo where she tore off his jacket and lifted the back of his shirt without his consent. Normally that would have set off some sort of panic but he knew Amren had no interest in him at all. She was simply interested in what damage Tamlin may have caused.

“I’ll give it to him,” she murmured. “Those chairs are heavy and he threw it fairly hard.”

“Just bruises,” Rhys replied.

“Either way, I’m taking pictures when we get back to the office and we will be filing charges,” Amren snapped. “Feyre won’t go to the police over what he did to her, but someone has to get a file started on that asshole.” She let his shirt go and he pulled his jacket back on. She had a point, he didn’t like it, but there was a point. He needed to speak to Feyre though, explain what he said and why incase that came back to bite him in the ass. He had no doubts it would.

If he thought he could shake Amren to get up to his office to speak with Feyre first, he was wrong. She stuck to him like a burr in the elevator and as the doors opened on the executive floor. But he stopped before he got to his office. Feyre wasn’t at her desk but he could see her cellphone and a half drank cup of coffee sitting there as if she were around.

“Let’s get this done with so I can file,” Amren steered him into his office and made him strip off his shirt completely. She was quick to snap a few pictures and then she left before he could even pull his undershirt back on. 

Not wanting to deal with pulling his button-down back on he left it and his suit jacket off while he wandered down the hall to the executive lounge where he could hear someone inside. He peered in and his heart broke. Feyre was alone in the lounge, her head in her hands, quietly crying into her palms. He crossed to her and turned her chair just enough that he could crouch down in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured when she looked up at him. He felt horrible. He should have found some way to spare her from whatever pain she was feeling. “I should have told you where I was going today.”

“No,” she forced the word out, her voice thick. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it, Darling? How can I help?” He moved to grip her hands, rubbing them between his hands.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a blubbering mess,” she tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her.

“Tell me what’s wrong, please,” he begged.

“I’m supposed to bury my father tomorrow,” she told him. “My sisters were supposed to come but they decided they would rather go on some sort of shopping trip instead.” Her breathing stuttered. “I just got the text a little bit ago.”

“I’m sorry, Feyre. I can go with you tomorrow if you want someone there,” he offered.

“You don’t have to do that,” she took her hands back and wiped her eyes. Then she froze and she stared at him. “You went to Spring like that?”

He glanced down at the white shirt that fitted to his muscled chest and shoulders and tucked into his tailored pants. His tattoos peeked out over the V of the shirt collar and the sleeves of his arms. If she wasn’t upset he would question her on if she found any of what she saw attractive.

“No, I went in my normal suit, but there was an incident and now my shirt and jacket are in my office because I don’t very much feel like putting them on,” he tried to shrug and winced.

“What happened?” Her eyes traced the movement as if she could tell exactly where he hurt.

“Your name was mentioned, some things were said,” he moved to stand and set himself in the chair across from her. “Tamlin knows you’re here now, and I played the role I normally play. I was trying to get under his skin and it worked.”

“What did you say?” She narrowed her eyes on him.

Rhys braced himself as he recounted what had been said. Then he got to the most incriminating part when he had truly made it sound like they had been together. Feyre’s hands had come up to her mouth at what Tamlin had said and when he recounted his next words, he expected her to stand up and slap him, or worse, just walk away and leave. Anything except her full on laugh as she doubled over.  
“If you could say anything to hurt him,” she cackled out, “indicating he’s inadequate would be enough.” She kept on laughing. “What did he do then?”

“He leveled me out with a chair. Amren likely has the assault charges already on their way to him right now,” he admitted.

“How bad?” She asked.

“Some bruises,” he stood and offered a hand down to her.

“He could have done worse,” she bit her lip as if thinking about it.

“If he had, he would have faced worse charges. As it is, he’s going to get a slap on the wrist,” Rhys shrugged again. “There’s nothing else on the agenda today. I don’t want to be here and you certainly don’t need to be here. Let’s go play hooky.” He stood and offered a hand down to her.

“But what would Mr. Nox say? He’s kind of a hardass.” She teased.

“Don’t worry. I have an in with him, and I think he has a soft spot for you,” Rhys winked at her and nodded to his still outstretched hand. “Come, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

She hesitated a moment and then gripped his hand. “There’s an art museum here that I’ve been meaning to go see.”

“Well, you’re in luck. Mr. Nox happens to be a patron of the Prythian Museum of Fine Arts,” he helped her to her feet. “I would be happy to escort you there.”

“Are you going to put your shirt back on?” She asked after a moment.

“Perhaps, is it something you’re requiring?” He turned to see her assessing him once more, her eyes taking in details he desperately wished she would speak out loud.

“I was just thinking those tattoos are a bit distracting. I kind of want to see what the rest of them look like,” she winked at him. “Give me a moment to fix my makeup. I’m sure it’s all over the place.”

“You look exquisite, Darling,” he found himself stepping just a fraction closer. She leaned a little more towards him. The door to the elevator opened, dinging loudly in the empty lobby. They jumped apart.

“Rhys! I don’t care what damn image you need to portray, next time you go near that psychopath you take security guards with you. You take me with you. You— ” Cassian exited the elevator like a charging bull.

“Take your time. I’m going to send out an email that we are out for the day,” Rhys turned to Feyre. She nodded and grabbed her purse and retreated to the restroom. Rhys turned to Cassian. “Something on your mind?”

“Next time, take a security guard,” he grumbled.

“Next time, I’ll make sure I don’t turn my back on him,” Rhys informed him. “We’re heading out for the day. Feyre would like to see the beauty of the art museum and I have no energy left for this shit today.”

“I’ll let the others know,” Cassian nodded. “And as soon as you’re healed, we need to get you back in fighting shape.” He turned to leave. “Taken down by a chair.” He snorted, got in the elevator, and left but not before Rhys heard the word ‘chair’ snorted out once more. With a grin and a shake of his head, Rhys went into his office to grab his button-down. He could leave the suit jacket off but there was no reason to be too distracting to Feyre just yet. He would leave that wonderful bit of information for another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends everything I wrote this weekend. I stole a line from Pinterest boards, if you know it you probably laughed. Don't know who to credit for it originally so thanks for the smart remark whoever penned it first.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys has a gift for Feyre and Feyre pranks Cassian

For the first time in a long time, Rhys was almost giddy with excitement. His hands wrapped around the small envelope in his hands, twisting it again and again as he watched the clock on his screen. 7:54, one minute until Feyre normally walked in the door. One moment before she would come up the elevator, walk to her desk, lock her purse in her drawer, and then go to the coffee maker. And once she had her coffee, if he could contain himself that long, he would go and give her the gift he held in his hand.

He had taken her to the art museum three times in as many days over the weekend and they had barely scratched the surface of what the museum held. He had walked the entire museum probably a hundred times, glancing at paintings and noting which ones were which, but never had he witnessed someone study the paintings with the fervor that Feyre seemed to have for them. He had watched her for hours as she studied brush strokes, color combinations, and styles. When she finally had asked what his favorite work of art in the museum was, he had had to lie. It had once been a painting done of the night sky with swirling galaxies that took up one whole wall on its own, but now he was absolutely certain it was Feyre and the way she bit her lip and tucked loose hairs behind her slightly pointed ear while she leaned almost too close to the valuable paintings.

They had gone Friday as he had promised her and had stayed until the museum had closed. They had gone back Saturday after he had made a point to check in with her after her father’s burial. She had gone alone despite his assurances he would indeed go with her. And when she hadn’t seen nearly enough by the end of Saturday he had brought her back on Sunday.

“Good morning,” Feyre chimed at him as she breezed in. For the first time at work, he saw her smiling openly and not because she was taunting Cassian or calling him a prick. His whole world seemed to stop for that smile and he promptly forgot he had intended to wait for her to settle in before approaching her.

“Good morning, Feyre Darling,” he purred as he came to perch against her desk. “Someone is in an excellent mood this morning.”

“Oh, and who would that be?” She teased as she went to get her coffee.

“It might be me,” he smirked at her. “If you accept this, that is,” he held out the envelope in his hand.

Feyre abandoned the coffee maker and came to take the envelope with a skeptical look. She read the front of it, which was addressed to him and a guest, then she opened it and her eyes slowly scanned over the more formal writing. It would take her a few moments to decipher what he had found waiting for him on Saturday at his house and what he had spent all Sunday agonizing over. 

“A gallery opening?” She asked finally.

“A big one for one of the hot shot painters in the area,” he admitted. “All of Prythian’s elite are being invited, hence why the invitation is in my name.” He paused for a moment and braced himself. “I need a date, and I’d like you to come with me.”

“Me?” She squeaked looking up at him.

“You can tell me no. I do understand your worries,” he tried to assure her but he was cut off as she launched herself at him. His arms closed around her before he even registered that she was hugging him.

“What do I even wear to such a thing?” She asked, her voice breathless.

“If you don’t mind, I may have Mor bring you something to wear. She knows these events best as she usually goes in my place,” he admitted. “Men it’s easy. A nice suit or tux and you’re set but with women…” he shuddered. Women were judged viciously on their clothing at such events. “Do you mind?”

“No. Mor won’t steer me wrong,” she squeezed him tighter. “This is a close first for the best thing to happen this morning,” she murmured against him.

“A close first?!” He demanded. “What else has happened?”

Feyre pushed back from him just enough to look him in the face, the mischief in her eyes sparkling. “Azriel may have admitted that Cassian is terrified of scary movies. And he may have mentioned that despite that, Cassian watches them and is absolutely haunted by the one with that monster Bryaxis. And Azriel may have helped me rig up the elevator before I came up so I can push a button on my phone after I stop the elevator and this stuffed Bryaxis might, possibly, fly out of the top of the elevator at him while he’s trapped inside.”

Rhys felt his eyebrows reach his hairline. It was positively devilish of her, but Cauldron help him, he wanted to see the footage of what Cassian might do. His latest prank on Feyre had been to find her dating profile and send her pictures of grotesque naked men and women. Azriel had been called in to help Feyre get rid of the spammed images that didn’t seem to stop which was likely why he had been so quick to help Feyre on this particular stunt.

“Come get me when it happens,” Rhys begged her. “I need to see it.” 

“Certainly. He even fixed the elevator a little more so I can now hear conversations in the elevator if I wish,” she pulled up the feed and pointed to where it was muted. “I hope he screams.”

“I hope he doesn’t damage the elevator too much,” Rhys laughed. “I can’t wait.” He moved to press a kiss to her cheek. “For this prank, or for this Saturday so I can take you out properly.”

Feyre turned her eyes from her screen to look at him then, her blue gray eyes wide. “So this is a real date?” She asked. “Not just a take your personal assistant to an event sort of thing?”

He watched her for a moment while his mind processed every bad thing that could happen if he told her the truth. A real date, he wanted it to be a real date. He wanted to take her to dinner beforehand and have her on his arm all night. He wanted to take her home at the end of the night and walk her to her door and kiss her good night. But if he told her that, she could balk. She could run away for him being too much like Tamlin. But he couldn’t lie to her. He couldn’t leave her thinking he only wanted to take her because she was a woman and he needed a quick escort.

“I’d like it to be a real date, Feyre,” he admitted softly. “I’d like to take you to dinner before at a nice restaurant and show off the most beautiful woman at the gallery opening.” He meant to say more but Feyre stopped him.

“This isn’t just to get in my pants? I won’t go home with you after the gallery opening. And you can’t just take me in your office for a quick one,” she warned.

“It was not my intention to take you back to my place or to assault you at work. You’re a beautiful person, Feyre Darling, and I like spending time with you. I want this to be a date. I promise this is not some scheme to get you in bed… or not a bed.” He winked at her and she promptly slapped his shoulder.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But this is a trial date. I reserve the right to tell you to fuck off and we go right back to being Mr. Nox and personal assistant.”

“Well, I prefer Prick and Feyre Darling, but I suppose if I need to start from the beginning again, I can handle it,” he smirked when she slapped his shoulder again. “I promise you’ll enjoy yourself. Now, feel free to interrupt anything so I can see this marvelous prank of yours.”

“I will,” she promised. “And Rhys?” He paused at his door to look back at her and the bright smile on her face. “Thank you for this. I hope you don’t regret bringing me.”

“I could never regret bringing you to see more art,” he promised her and earned an even more radiant smile. He locked himself in his office then, using the glass wall as a deterrent from pouncing on her right then and there to kiss those smiling lips.

Mor arrived in his office an hour later and gave him a strange look as she sat in the chair across from him. “Why does Feyre look like a cat about to eat a canary?”

“She discovered Cassian’s paralyzing fear of Bryaxis,” Rhys admitted. “And may possibly make him damage my elevator as soon as he tries to come up here.”

“I have to see this,” Mor begged. “Someone has to get that bastard good for everything he’s done to us over the years. Wait, does Az know about this? Should I call him up here?”

“Az helped her set this up. And I will personally call him to come upstairs to hasten this along so you can watch with us, and send you a copy of the video, if you do me a favor,” Rhys locked eyes with his cousin. Her warm brown eyes narrowed on his.

“Is it something illegal?” She questioned.

“Not necessarily illegal but possibly frowned upon by my head of human resources,” Rhys admitted.

“A shame,” Mor sighed. “I could use some illegal fun,” she let out another very exaggerated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright, what won’t I approve of.”

“I need you to take a gown to Feyre on Saturday morning and pretend you went shopping for it.” He waited for Mor to process the whole thing before her eyes narrowed further.

“Where are you taking her?”

“A high profile, art gallery opening… as my date.” Rhys expected Mor to attack him. He expected strong words about dating an employee or traumatizing Feyre further after what she had gone through with Tamlin. He expected anything except her smiling as much as Feyre about to pull her prank.

“She’s good for you,” Mor stood and rounded his desk to embrace him. “You deserve someone who makes you happy, Rhys, even if it’s your personal assistant and I should frown upon it.”

Rhys smiled back at her. Mor would know his dating history. She knew all about Amarantha and about each girl he had momentarily had interest in after. But Feyre was different from those girls. He had made sure he had the control with them. Had had extensive background checks done on all of them and none of them had truly lasted more than a date or two before he had tired of them. But they were few and far between. He couldn’t see himself wanting to let Feyre go after one date, or two, or ten. In fact, he couldn’t envision what his future would be like without her in it.

“So you must already have a dress in mind,” Mor pressed as she returned to her seat.

“I do. A special one that I think would be perfect on her and her alone,” Rhys gave a slight nod out to the lobby where Feyre sat. “Well, I think I can call Cassian up here for a meeting.”

“Wait, let me text Az. He should be up here to see his handiwork,” Mor pulled out her phone and started typing. A moment later her phone chimed back. “He said, go ahead and call, he will watch from his monitors.”

“I expect nothing less,” Rhys chuckled and then picked up his phone. “We’re having an impromptu meeting upstairs. How soon can I expect you up here? Five minutes, alright, we will wait.” He hung up the phone and went to alert Feyre that Cassian was about to walk into his nightmare.

The next few minutes were agonizing as Feyre sat poised at her desk watching the monitor, waiting for Cassian to enter the elevator. She had unmuted the monitor to make sure they captured any noise made. Then Cassian entered the elevator and swiped his ID, crossing his fingers as he tended to do whenever he got on now, likely praying for his card to work. Feyre allowed the elevator to set in motion.

“Let’s wait until he’s just about to the top,” Rhys whispered and Feyre nodded. 

They watched the numbers on the screen and between the floor below them and the executive floor, Feyre stopped the elevator and shut down the lights for a moment. They heard Cassian curse and then Feyre turned the lights back on just as the stuffed Bryaxis fell from the ceiling and began swinging around. It took all of a moment before the unearthly, high pitched scream, echoed not only through the monitor but from the elevator shaft. The monitor showed Cassian clawing at the doors, at the walls, at anything to get away from that dark mass that swung above him. After a few terrorizing moments, Feyre set the elevator in motion once more.

The doors opened and Cassian tumbled into the lobby, his olive skin pale, shaking, and his hazel eyes so wide that the whites were completely visible. 

“Everything alright?” Rhys asked, his mask firmly in place.

Cassian’s eyes shot to them all surrounding the monitor, then his eyes narrowed on them. “You’re all dead to me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

“Whatever did we do?” Mor asked, feigning innocence far too well.

“You were watching that whole thing! You did it!” Cassian bellowed, jumping up to face them.

“We were in Rhys’ office having a meeting when we heard this Cauldron-awful scream come from the elevator,” Feyre told him, her face completely straight. “We only just turned on the monitor when you stumbled out. What happened?”

Rhys almost lost it then and there as Cassian stared at them all. As he seemed to start questioning if he was indeed right about them being involved. 

“I will find out which of you is involved. Someone will pay,” he murmured.

“Such threats to your coworkers and boss,” Rhys clucked his tongue. “Perhaps I’d rather speak with your second in command while you go change your pants.”

Cassian’s eyes went down the front of his body in horror, but there was no wet stain there as Rhys had indicated. But that had been enough for Cassian. He made a rude gesture at all of them and stormed over to the stairwell.

“Don’t you want to take the elevator?” Mor asked sweetly. He flipped them another rude gesture but said nothing else as he disappeared into the stairwell.

“I doubt he will be taking the elevator anytime soon,” Rhys laughed. “I hope Azriel has that all recorded.”

“I’m sure he did,” Feyre stood and went to the elevator to retrieve the stuffed Bryaxis as it stopped swinging about. She brought it over and presented it to Rhys with a flourish. It was then that all of the laughter he had been tucking away burst out of him. After a moment Mor and Feyre joined him. Moments later a message appeared from Azriel with the entire video on all three of their phones. Nothing productive seemed to happen for the rest of the day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys and Feyre have a date, and Rhys tries really hard to be a gentleman.

Rhys paced, checked the time on his phone, and straightened his tux jacket again. Upon seeing the gown, Mor had decided she needed to take Feyre under her wing for the day and get her ready. Then she promised to drop Feyre off at Nox Industries where they would take a limo to the restaurant he had made reservations at. Once dinner was over, they would go to the art gallery and Rhys would happily watch Feyre study far more art. But Mor was notoriously late, something that grated on Rhys’ nerves. They weren’t late yet, but it was getting seriously close to the time he had told Mor he needed Feyre to meet him.

“You would think he’d wear a hole in the floor that way,” he heard Mor’s voice chime behind him. He whipped around and stopped breathing as he took in Feyre.

The gown he had selected for her was a floor length, dark blue, crystal encrusted gown with a neckline that brushed her collarbones and full-length sleeves. The modesty of it was almost destroyed by how it clung to every curve and hollow of her body. Her golden brown hair was left down, teased into slight curls, and pinned back with crystal combs. Her blue gray eyes were lined, her lashes darkened and lengthened, and shimmered with just enough color on the lid to bring out their natural light. Her painted pink lips twisted up into a smirk and he suddenly remembered how to breathe again.

“You look delicious, Feyre Darling,” he purred as he prowled towards her.

“She’s a woman, not a dessert, Cousin,” Mor chided but Feyre was blushing slightly.

“You don’t look half bad yourself. I almost expected to see you in another tailored black suit,” Feyre regained herself.

“Wait until you see what I wear at home. The shock of me in jeans and a t-shirt could kill you,” Rhys chuckled. “Shall we go, Feyre Darling? I made us reservations.”

“Of course,” she beamed up at him. “Thank you, again, Mor, for everything.” She took his offered arm and let him steer her out the front of the building right to the waiting limo. “Why haven’t I seen jeans and a t-shirt Rhys yet?” She asked when the limo was moving in the right direction.

“Because women would jump me left and right and I’d never get any work done. Even you, Darling, would be powerless to not jump on this,” he waved a hand down his body and received what he could only describe as a cackle in return.

“Why the limo tonight? I thought you liked to drive yourself,” came the next question.

“I do like to drive myself. However, this night has an event that will require me to have a certain image in place. We need to make an entrance. You alone on my arm would do the trick with how gorgeous you are, but a little extra helps.”

“You pretend to be someone else for these things, should I?” She turned to look at him fully and he momentarily stopped breathing again.

“You don’t need to do anything,” he tried to assure her. His entire family had personas they adopted in public but he couldn’t stomach the idea of Feyre doing such a thing. He couldn’t imagine stifling her light in any way.

“So, tell me about what to expect tonight,” she leaned a little closer to him.

“So many questions tonight,” he teased back. She reached out and pinched his leg hard in response. He laughed and began explaining about the people she might come across at the art gallery.  
Dinner was excellent as Rhys had expected. They, or rather just him, were recognized on sight and escorted back to a private table where they were waited on with just enough attention that they weren’t suffocated with it. After several good bottles of wine and full dinners for both of them where Rhys assured Feyre she could indeed order the steak if she so wanted, but she chose lobster instead, they were back in the limo and on their way to the art gallery.

The magnificent glass building was lit up from the inside with bright lights like a beacon. Anyone important that hadn’t been invited to the event would certainly know one was being missed and they were being snubbed for whatever reason. Rhys steered Feyre straight through the front door, presented his invitation to the bouncers at the inner door, and collected a glass of white wine for Feyre and red for himself.

The artist they were viewing used a lot of impressions rather than images and Feyre was quick to keep him looking at the art instead of her by asking what he thought the image was supposed to be. They debated about each one, waiting to read the plaques with the names of the works written on them until after they were completely sure of what they thought it was. Sometimes they were right, other times they were completely wrong and they would laugh as they moved on to the next painting.

Rhys kept Feyre’s glass full as they wandered through the gallery, ignoring the others walking about. He only had eyes for her and she pretty much only had eyes for the art, though he did catch her sneaking a glance or two his way. That he could still draw her attention, albeit briefly, from the art made him feel good about his chances with her accepting another date in the future.

The only trouble spot of the evening happened when he left for the fifth time to get Feyre and himself another glass of wine. When he returned to where Feyre had been, she was missing, but he could hear her protesting. He found a place to set both glasses down and rounded the corner to see several of the Vanserra boys pulling her toward a stairwell. It was clear Feyre was trying to break their hold on her, but she likely had no self defense training and there were three of them to just one small her. 

“And where would you boys happen to be taking my date,” Rhys found his voice going cold far too easily. The Vanserra boys, with the exception of Lucien, had reputations for being rough with females and often without consent of any kind.

“Word on the street is Greene wants her back. He might even have a reward if we return her,” one of them stepped out. “And we can have a little fun first. She will be too drugged up to remember if it was us or you who assaulted her.”

Rhys didn’t remember moving but he had the one speaking out cold against the wall before he could utter another word. The other two stared for all of a moment before they dropped their holds on Feyre and ran. Rhys waited a moment for the rage to subside before he crossed to Feyre and offered his hand to her though he wanted nothing more than to hold her. He needed to let her choose how much contact she wanted after she was grabbed so unpleasantly. She looked down at the hand for a moment, then to the unconscious Vanserra against the wall, and took one step, and then another until she was completely against him. His arms closed around her easily.

“Did they drug you?” He asked softly. “A needle anywhere, a drink they gave you, anything they put over your mouth?”

“No, nothing,” she replied, “yet.”

“Then let’s go back to where we were,” he put an arm around her waist and steered her out of the back hallway. She wrapped an arm around his waist as well, likely for assurance more than affection. He steered her to grab a fresh glass of wine and then back to the paintings. 

“Rhysand Nox, I presume?” A young man’s voice carried over to him a few paintings later. “I only guess by the appearance and the way people are trying to avoid you.” He turned to see a young man with dark skin, turquoise eyes, and nearly white hair. Tarquin Summer, the newest CEO of Summer Hospitalities.

“Mr. Summer, how may I help you?” Rhys gave him a smile. The young man had been looking into Velaris at one point but not as a threat. He seemed to have been studying the structure of the businesses and how Velaris helped them.

“I was actually hoping to meet the fetching young lady at your side. Her insight into art has been quite intriguing,” Tarquin turned to Feyre and offered her a hand. She gave him a pleasant smile and took his hand for a quick squeeze.

“Feyre Archeron,” she gave her name. “You have an interest in art?”

“Greene’s girl?” He asked looking to Rhys with a raised eyebrow.

“My own person,” she replied tartly, retreating a step into Rhys.

“Feyre belongs to no one but herself,” Rhys informed Tarquin.

“I’m sorry. There are rumors going around about what he did to you. I’m sorry you were mistreated,” Tarquin gave a small bow of his head. “I have an interest in all things beautiful and I’m always on the lookout for art for my resorts. Though, to be honest,” he gave a shy smile, “I prefer to buy from lesser known artists than this. Support those who struggle to get noticed.”

“A noble cause,” Feyre admitted. “You might try looking at the community art classes that are offered around Prythian. They are usually full of budding artists. I know one man that paints beautiful cityscapes at every single one.”

“You sound like you attend the art classes,” Tarquin glanced at Rhys before stepping closer. “Do you paint?”

“Some, not often. Mr. Nox keeps me busy with my work,” she turned back to Rhys to hook her arm through his. 

Rhys smiled at her attempt to avoid Tarquin’s flirting, however subtle it was. That she painted was new information to him but after seeing her at the museum and all night with the works, he could see how it all was likely fueled by a passion for painting herself. At some point he would need to get her to tell him all about her art, maybe beg to see a piece or two.

“I’ve heard you’ve been working at Nox Industries. I didn’t realize you two worked so closely,” Tarquin took only a small step back. “You know,” he reached into his pocket, “here’s my card. If you ever want to sell any of your work, give me a call.” Feyre took the card. “And thank you for the advice. I will look into those classes.” Then Tarquin left them but Rhys could feel his eyes and more than that following them for the rest of the evening.

It was late by the time he steered Feyre back out to the limo. He helped her into the back and then turned to face the driver. “We are going to drop Miss Archeron off first. Her address,” he offered a card he had written the address on to the driver.

“Very good, Mr. Nox,” the driver nodded and Rhys went to join Feyre in the back of the limo.

As the limo started to move, Rhys gave Feyre a look over while she stared out the window. Her eyes were glazed just a little and she swayed slightly until she turned to smile up at him with the most dazzling smile he had ever seen.

“I had a great time,” she admitted.

“I’m glad I could treat you,” he shifted a little closer. All he truly was hoping for was that she would lay her head against his shoulder for the duration of the ride and perhaps he would be able to steal a kiss at her door. But Feyre had other plans, it seemed. 

She surged forward and pressed her soft lips against his. Rhys wrapped an arm around her waist as she opened her mouth and let out a contented sigh. His self control went out the window and his tongue darted out to meet hers. A soft moan from her had him tightening his grip around her and deepening the kiss even more.

He wasn’t sure who moved first or if it was something mutual between them but some part of him realized Feyre was on his lap, straddling him, while his hands were exploring her back and tangling in her hair. She ground against him and he couldn’t help the groans escaping him at how she was turning him on. He needed to get that gown off of her, he needed to get her down on the floor and just take her, he needed to hear her screaming his name.

A knock on the window next to his head snapped his attention away from Feyre and he realized they were stopped. The clock located up near the front of the limo showed him nearly twenty minutes had passed though he couldn’t place where any of the time had gone. There had only been Feyre, his blood boiling in his veins, and the way her body was pressed against his to make his pants unbearably tight. Rhys glanced out the window and frowned. They were not outside of Feyre’s apartment building. He had never been there to recognize it, but he did recognize his own townhouse. Feyre’s glazed eyes followed to the window and he cursed to himself. He didn’t want her thinking he had planned to take her to his place.

“I asked him to take you home first,” Rhys tried to tell her.

“This is where you live?” She asked after a moment, her eyes swinging back to his face. He nodded, not willing to trust himself. It was simple compared to how most people of his wealth and power lived. It wasn’t some large mansion on the edge of the city or an expensive penthouse condo. It was a townhouse on a quiet, residential street. It was a larger townhouse with four bedrooms, five bathrooms, and a rooftop garden he spent most of his home time in, but it was still fairly simple. “It looks nice,” came her reply.

“It is,” he admitted. “I’ll get the driver to take you home.” Rhys started to reach for the button to roll down the window but Feyre stopped him with a hand over his.

“Wait,” she moved until she was flush against him. “The night doesn’t have to end here, does it?” Her mouth moved to his jawline and he couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. Feyre was going to be the death of him. This constant battle between what was right and what his body wanted- what she was making his body want, was going to stress his body to the point it would just give up and spare him the decision. He almost hoped it would, but then Feyre trailed a hand down his chest, his stomach, and lower to his inner thigh just barely brushing by where he was still half hard from her grinding against him.

“Fey-ruh,” he begged. “I’m trying to do as you asked. I’m trying to be respectful of your wishes,” he forced out as her tongue and teeth started to assault his ear.

“What if,” she whispered between her ministrations, “I have other wishes that I think might be more worth your time?”

“Feyre, I can’t. You’ve been drinking,” he moved her off of him. “You’ve been drinking and I don’t want you to regret a single thing about being with me.” The effort it took to even force the words from his mouth, to realize he was turning her down, was the hardest thing he had ever done. But Feyre’s eyes were bright as she looked him over once, then twice. Then a small smile lit her face and she reached over, opened the door, and proceeded to climb over his lap to get out.

“Are you coming?” She asked with a glance over her shoulder. 

The breath caught in his chest as he stumbled out after her. He only stopped to look at the driver hoping for an explanation. He simply held out his phone and on the screen was a message from his own brother, Azriel, instructing the driver to not bring Feyre home. 

“I thought since you two were so entangled, she might rather stay here than the hotel that was suggested,” the driver murmured. Rhys only nodded, thanked the man, and tipped him well before following up to where Feyre waited outside of his front door.

He unlocked the door, disarmed the alarms as Feyre looked around the foyer, and then he relocked the door and reset the alarm before offering Feyre a hand. She took it and came to him willingly and started tugging on his bowtie until it was loose, and then started to unbutton his shirt.

“Feyre,” he gripped her hands. “Are you sure you want this?”

“The limo is gone now,” she informed him.

“I have a guest room you can stay in,” he promised. “We don’t need to do anything.”

“I’m not drunk, Rhys,” she turned her face up to his. “Will you kiss me again?”

Rhys searched her face, searched her eyes, and thought a prayer to the Mother that Feyre wouldn’t regret a single moment as he lowered his mouth to hers. Instantly she opened her mouth to his and that was his undoing. He pulled her up the stairs, shedding his tux jacket, his shoes, Feyre’s shoes, and the combs in Feyre’s hair as they stopped to lean against the railings of the stairs, the walls, several closed doors, and finally against the door to his bedroom. He found the doorknob and turned it, causing them to stumble into his room.

Feyre broke away from him for a moment, her eyes taking in the details of the room. The king sized bed with its black comforter and black, satin pillows, the wardrobe against one wall, the desk and armchair that looked out over he courtyard below, and the doors that led to his bathroom and his closet. Then slowly, she reached back and Rhys stopped breathing as he heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down. It took all of a moment for the gown to slide down her arms and body until it pooled on the ground, exposing her skin and the blue scraps of lace that covered her chest and center. She turned, offering him a view of her beautiful backside where the lace was barely visible, and walked to the bed. Her hands came back once more and she unhooked her bra and let that fall to the floor as well.

Rhys remembered how to breathe as she turned towards him and sat on the bed. His mouth went dry at the sight of her bare breasts, the flat planes of her stomach, and the way she spread her legs ever so slightly in invitation. His legs moved of their own accord until he was standing in front of her, his legs between hers.

“You’re too clothed,” she whispered.

“Maybe we should fix that,” he replied, feeling his normal swagger abandon him.

Feyre’s fingers found the buttons of his shirt and she very slowly and methodically unbuttoned every single one until his shirt was gone. Then she turned her attention to his pants. Her fingers brushed against his hardness as she unbuttoned his waistband and slid the pants to the floor, leaving him in his boxers and his socks.

“Better,” she murmured giving him an appreciative once over. She pulled her legs up until she could kneel on the side of the bed and rose up to start kissing him once more. Her breasts pressed against his chest and he was almost to the point he couldn’t think anymore. Almost.

“Feyre,” he broke away from her one last time. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Rhys,” she told him with a soft smile. “I want you on me, kissing me, inside of me.” He growled and pinned her back against the bed in an instant. She writhed underneath of him and pressed up against him. Rhys pinned her hands above her head and let his mouth start to roam every place he had wanted to kiss, to taste, to feel. She moaned beneath him. And only when he had thoroughly explored her with his mouth did he strip them both of their final undergarments.

Rhys knew, there would be a time to go hard and fast. There would be a time to give into his boiling blood and the heat that had overtaken him in the limo. There would be time to pin Feyre to the nearest surface and take her while she screamed in pleasure. But this wasn’t that time. This was the time to go soft and slow. To drag out both of their pleasures as he worshiped her body until both of them were too exhausted to do more than pull the covers around them before falling asleep entangled in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the continued support by way of views, kudos, and comments. I'm slowly figuring out where I want this story to go. I do not believe I included enough in this chapter to make it an Explicit story but please feel free to tell me otherwise. I welcome all comments!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad news, more bad news, and let's add a little more.

Come 10 AM on Monday morning, Rhys was already wishing it was still the day before. That he could go back to the moment he had woken to feel Feyre delicately tracing the tattoo that stretched from one bicep, across his chest and back, and to the other bicep. The delicate whorls and lines that he hid most days beneath button down shirts and suit jackets had been on full display to her and she had seemed completely set on tracing each line. That he could go back and tell her all about his Illyrian upbringing in the mountains once more as he explained what the tattoos meant and how they marked his status as a warrior in Illyrian clans. That he could go back to pinning her against the wall of the shower when she had spent far too long scrubbing certain areas to be anything less than a tease. That he could go back to keeping her trapped on the couch while they watched movies and ordered in pizza. That he could go back to the moment Mor had arrived with supplies for Feyre and no other explanation other than Feyre couldn’t go home quite yet. That he could go back to the moment he had offered Feyre the guestroom and she had ended up in his bed again anyway. 

Or perhaps even just go back to that morning when they had been getting ready for work side by side and Rhys had realized how natural it felt to have Feyre right there in his bathroom braiding her hair for the day or her sitting next to him at the kitchen island eating a muffin before they left.

Instead he was sitting at the conference table with Cassian, Azriel, and Mor in an emergency meeting. Amren was absent but he had been assured she wasn’t necessarily needed yet. He could see Feyre at her desk, hear her typing on her computer as Mor had left the door open, but she hadn’t been invited to join them telling him it was more serious matters that had his brothers and cousin sitting before him, each with their own files in hand.

“I take it the date went well if Feyre decided not to go to the hotel,” Azriel started, his voice soft enough not to carry out of the room.

“A few hiccups. The Vanserras attempted to kidnap her for their own sick pleasure before apparently returning her to Tamlin. And Tarquin Summer thought it appropriate to flirt with her,” he shrugged. “They were dealt with.”

“About Tamlin,” Cassian opened his folder. “Az caught wind that he had announced he was going to try and get her back. Now he only spoke to his team about it, so the Vanserras must also have a bug in his conference room. We set surveillance up on Feyre’s apartment building on Friday when we caught wind. Saturday, shortly after Feyre left with Mor, Tamlin showed up at the building and somehow convinced the building manager he was Feyre’s boyfriend and needed a key to her apartment for some grand romantic gesture. He was still there when we were informed you were on your way home.”

Rhys frowned at the words. Had Feyre gone home that night she would have likely ended up hurt or worse at Tamlin’s hand. He wasn’t exactly the forgiving or forgetting type unless he was the one in the wrong, then he insisted he receive forgiveness and his transgressions be forgotten. That Tamlin had gotten into Feyre’s apartment so easily was unsettling, and now he had a key.

“Feyre can’t go back there, can she?” Mor asked. “He likely did something to make sure even if she changes the locks he can get back in, and that place is horrid enough that a full sweep and lock down of her apartment is almost not worth it.”

“It would be ill-advised,” Azriel admitted. “We can have someone we trust go in and gather her belongings if she would feel more comfortable and relocate her to a hotel until she finds somewhere else.”

“I’ll speak with her,” Rhys promised. He would certainly advise her against returning, unless she was collecting her belongings and took a security guard. He would also make his recommendation about hotels but he would also suggest the guestroom he had offered her the night before. It was far too quick to even think about asking her to move in with him, but he couldn’t imagine letting her stay anywhere else either.

“Now that that’s settled,” Cassian announced and looked to Mor.

“Over the weekend, twenty-three of Velaris’ businesses received these notices nailed to their doors,” she opened her folder and handed him eviction notices from building owners.

“But we own the buildings,” Rhys looked to Mor.

“We do. These are fakes, but they are enough to stir some fear in the community. I’ve sent emails and called every business on our list to assure them this is some sort of vicious prank, but they might need to hear from you as well. I also told them to report any suspicious activity to me as well. If anyone comes to threaten them, they are to call me immediately.” Mor removed one more report. “These are the businesses that received the notices, and the ones with stars by them also have received calls telling them it would be best to close now.”

“I’ll follow up with these businesses,” Rhys sighed. It would take him a good part of the day to do so.

“And now to the real matter at hand,” Azriel pulled his attention back. “I’ve had reports from both the politicians we are close with and from our Illyrian brethren that Hybern has been looking into turning the reservation lands into new factory space for his company. There have been a few contractors out poking around and there are lobbyists hounding the politicians about releasing the reservation status on those lands. It would seem that man that wanted to build a ski resort out there made one too many good friends of possible investors. He has been turned away from the idea and now Hybern has overtaken the plan to rip apart the lands.”

“What will happen to the Illyrian population if he succeeds?” Rhys asked though he already knew the answer.

“They will be displaced and compensated according to Hybern’s lobbyists. Likely not even enough to buy a hovel anywhere, but that isn’t their concern,” Mor snapped. “They just want to rip apart the land and drain its resources for profit.”

“If,” he heard a small voice at the door and looked to see Feyre standing there, a steaming cup in her hands. “If Hybern takes the lands and drains them for profit, won’t the profits go right back to Hybern’s main base in Hybern? Why would the Prythian government allow him here if no profit will come here?”

“That’s a fair point,” Cassian nodded to Feyre. “Do we have anyone reminding our side of that?”

“I’ll find some lobbyists sympathetic to native rights and push their direction,” Mor promised.

“And will they hire people here or bring in workers from Hybern? From what you’ve told me of the country,” Feyre stepped forward and put the coffee cup down in front of Rhys as she addressed him. “They are overflowing with workers and no place to put them. Won’t they send those workers this way.”

“Very likely, and they will put them in compounds to keep them from experiencing any freedom in Prythian,” Azriel commented. “He’s done that in the past when he’s taken over other places. They won’t be contributing to our economy much if at all.”

“Gather up whatever information you can about what Hybern has done in other places to present to the government,” he informed Azriel.

“If the lands go up for sale, is there anyway we can outbid him?” Cassian asked.

“No chance. Even all of our wealth combined does hold a candle to what he can offer,” Rhys looked to his brother. “We can’t just buy our way out of this one it would seem.”

“There must be a lot of legalities involved in taking away a native reservation,” Feyre reminded them. “There could possibly be some long-forgotten legalities in our favor.”

“Speak to Amren as well,” Rhys took Feyre’s hint. “Set her on them.”

“I’ll go speak with her now,” Mor stood and gathered her things. “And get some lobbyists working in our favor.” She stopped to grip his shoulder before leaving.

“Any other brilliant ideas, Darling?” Rhys asked, patting the chair next to him. If she was going to contribute so much, she might as well sit and join them.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s brilliant,” she blushed. “But you said Illyrians are a proud people. They kept their native lands because they fought viciously for them. I would believe some of those blood lines they hold so dear also have lands they have passed down generation to generation. Perhaps they might decide it’s worth fighting to protect their heritage. If anything, have the warriors that stay there with little to do but hunt run off everyone that comes poking around.”

“I like this one, Rhys,” Cassian rose. “I’m going to go get messages out to our clan about what is going down. Get them riled up and action started on their end.” He made it to the door before he smiled back at them. “Keep this one.”

Rhys snorted. He had no intention of letting Feyre go anywhere. She had a brilliant mind, a wicked sense of humor, and was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. There was no possible way he would ever come across another woman like her and he didn’t want to. This one was for made to match with him, he knew it in his bones.

“Rhysand,” Azriel’s voice was softer. Rhys almost glared at his brother for using his full name but he caught his brother’s dark look. There was more and he had intentionally waited until everyone else had left.

“Give us a moment?” Rhys asked Feyre. She nodded and removed herself, closing the door behind her to give them privacy. “What’s so horrible you needed to wait for everyone else to go? Tamlin is in my lobby?”

“No,” Azriel shook his head. “More of a warning than anything else. I received word early this morning that Amarantha Scarlett is leading Hybern’s attempts to get hold here. When I saw her name on the documents passed to me, I did some looking. Hybern found some legal loopholes and got her out of prison here nearly a year ago.”

“It’s starting to feel like this is all some personal attack,” Rhys groaned.

“It might be. I’m going to sweep the building for bugs and spies and then your townhouse and car. I’ll need access to your phone and your personal computer by this evening as well to check for anything that shouldn’t be there.” Azriel stood. “Have Feyre be careful if she chooses to go anywhere alone. I’d suggest she ask Cassian for a few self-defense lessons.”

“Right,” Rhys buried his face in his hands. Azriel left a moment later but Rhys didn’t look up.

It all felt too personal. The harassing of the companies protected under Velaris, the threat to his mother’s homelands, the threats to Feyre, and now Amarantha. If she was leading the legal teams, she was back in Prythian, likely somewhere too close for his comfort. No one would allow her anywhere near Nox Industries and she didn’t know where he lived, but that didn’t make him feel safer.

“How can I help?” Feyre’s voice was next to him. He reached out for her without looking up and pulled her down on his lap. He buried his face against her neck and wrapped his arms around her.  
“You can give me piece of mind on one part of all of this,” he murmured.

“Oh?” She shifted so he had to look up into her eyes. Then he proceeded to detail why she hadn’t been allowed home after she had left Saturday. He could feel the slight shake that gave away her fear but her face betrayed nothing. “What am I going to do?”

“Either you go home with a body guard to pack or you let Cassian assign someone to do it for you,” Rhys started. “And then we can check you into a hotel I trust until you find a place to live, or you can bring everything to my place and stay with me.”

“Rhys! We went on one date!” She pushed away from him.

“The guest room, Feyre. It would be all yours,” he promised. “I won’t monitor when you go out or with who. You won’t be trapped in any way. You are free to come and go, and look for your own place if you choose.” Feyre’s eyes sparked with a small touch of light at his words. “It would not be a reason for me to have access to you. It would be for your safety and for my peace of mind, but you would set the rules and boundaries.”

“I’d like to be there when my belongings are packed up,” Feyre admitted. “And I suppose I should at least look at the guestroom.”

Rhys felt a small smile tug at his lips. He knew enough that if she was saying that, she wouldn’t consider a hotel.

“There are several options,” he promised her. “If you don’t feel the room I have set as the guestroom is far enough away from me. We can set Cassian to work moving everything around.”

“Would tonight be too quickly to go get my things?” She asked.

“Let’s see how quick I can get you a guard,” Rhys promised. “You might be able to go within the hour.”

“That’s fairly quick,” she shot back at him.

“I’d rather you go while Tamlin should be working, to be honest,” Rhys admitted. There was a very good chance that Tamlin had the place watched. Whoever escorted Feyre and her belongings to his townhouse would need to be careful that they weren’t followed. He trusted his security system, but he didn’t trust that Feyre would be completely fine if Tamlin found her at his place. The thought of Amarantha finding his house was enough to make sure he would have nightmares of her. He didn’t doubt for a second that Feyre felt close to the same about Tamlin. “Let me see what I can get together.”

“You have a lot to do as it is,” she slid off of his lap. “I’ll take care of my end of things, you do what you need.”

“Fine,” he sighed. He did have a lot to organize and he knew Feyre would be able to organize whatever she needed. “I’ll call Cerridwen and Nuala to let them know you’re coming though.” Feyre nodded and went to make her own calls.

Rhys smiled at the thought of his house maids. They had been with him for a long time, had been the only two to see him all the way through Amarantha. He and Feyre had discussed them the day before when he had explained that he didn’t normally cook unless it was a weekend, since his maids had the weekends off. Feyre had been surprised he only had two and had described the staff that Tamlin had kept whenever she had actually visited his manor.

The twins would like Feyre. They would probably like her better than they liked him. He had no doubts if he called them, they would drop everything they were doing to prepare the guestroom and make a point to welcome her properly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Feysand Fluff and then we see an appearance of some more characters.

“Still working?” Feyre’s voice caught him off guard as he buried himself in more reports from the people working to help him. One particular name kept popping in and out of the reports: Amarantha. He cringed whenever he saw it.

“Unfortunately,” he turned and caught sight of Feyre in a small tank top and work out shorts. Cassian had been by earlier to teach her some basics in getting out of someone’s hold and how to best injure an opponent with the intention of getting away. “Very unfortunately now that I see you dressed like that.”

Despite the fact that Feyre had been with him all week, he was still getting used to her around the house. She slept in her room most nights though two of the nights she had ended up in his bed after nightmares had chased her from hers down the hall. He left his door open for her and promised she was always welcome to come warm him up in the middle of the night. But he still was not used to her quiet intrusions when he spent late nights in his office that took over one of the third-floor bedrooms. More or less, he wasn’t used to having a reason to not work tempting him.

“Reports on Hybern or Velaris?” She asked coming to perch on the edge of his desk.

“At this point I’m starting to believe that both are connected. Az found Amarantha is the one targeting Velaris businesses with her fear campaign and fear is how she starts, but not how she ends. And since Amarantha is a Hybern employee, I’d bet every article of black clothing I own that she’s doing it as part of Hybern.” He reached for her and she came willingly to his lap.

“Az said that Hybern broke the spirit of his people by taking away their individuality. You sponsor artists and local businesses that are full of individuality. If he’s looking to establish a foothold here and eventually overtake the land and economy, I wouldn’t be surprised if he does it again.” She shrugged and pulled the reports to herself. “Do you think she knows you’re connected to Velaris?”

“Unlikely,” he admitted. “But it still feels like she does.”

“Do you want a distraction or to be left alone?” She asked finally.

“What sort of distraction are you offering me?” Rhys asked.

“Well, it’s Friday night. I’m sure Mor is out at Rita’s partying, we could go join her. Or we could go cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie,” she suggested.

Rhys swallowed his smartass remark about sex being off the table but he had promised not to press Feyre for a physical relationship. She was affectionate with him by way of little touches and kisses but they hadn’t had any steamy make out sessions or done anything but sleep in the bed when she had come to him. But having her sitting on his lap in those very short shorts had his mind slowly sliding down the gutter and lower. 

“What are you thinking about?” She asked softly.

“Work,” he lied. He could not have her knowing he was disappointed that she wasn’t offering him to take her to his bed and ravage her again. “Why?” He glanced up at her to see her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Work is making something poke into my butt,” she informed him with a straight face. “Should I be worried about something at work that is making your body react such ways?”

“Fine, I was thinking about last Saturday night and Sunday morning, and how distracting that all was,” he admitted.

“And you didn’t want to tell me?” She turned to face him fully, dragging her butt across his lap painfully slow so he could feel every little motion, and straddled him on the chair.

“I didn’t want to push you into anything you didn’t want,” he whispered, finding himself suddenly breathless.

“Well, it’s still early,” she reminded him. “Too late to be working, but I wasn’t planning on heading to bed any time soon. Perhaps we can push off that particular activity until after a movie.”

“Perhaps you are underestimating how long I can drag out your pleasure,” he murmured in her ear. He felt her breath hitch slightly. Then he heard the sweetest words he swore were ever known to him.

“Prove it.”

\--

It was late in the morning by the time Rhys finally dragged himself from bed. Feyre, somehow, had found the energy to get up a couple hours before him. He only had himself to blame that she wasn’t still worn out. But he found her in the kitchen, occupying one of the stools at the island with a coffee in front of her, some pastry Nuala or Cerridwen had left behind, and several pieces of paper he recognized from his office. She was slowly reading through his reports. Despite the fact she was trying to do work, the whole thing was incredibly sexy. She was in just his t-shirt, her bare legs stretching down the front of the stool.  
“So I can’t work too late at night, can I ask that you not try and work on the weekend?” He asked. “Especially when you are wearing… just that.” He came up behind her and stroked a hand down her side.

“I might be imagining it,” Feyre started. “But have you noticed how Amarantha is only targeting businesses that Tamlin has tried to put out of business before?”

Rhys straightened and took the reports from Feyre to read through the lists of businesses. She was right. How she knew was a different question, but she was right about every single business being ones they had saved from Tamlin replacing with a chain store.

“Does Tamlin know you’re Illyrian?” Feyre asked softly. A probing question that Rhys understood the exact meaning to. Would Tamlin tell Amarantha and Hybern how to best strike at him?

“Yes,” he breathed out. “But he wouldn’t know about Velaris. I never told him even when we were closer friends.”

“I’m going to bet it’s unrelated to you at that rate, but completely related to Tamlin. Last time Amarantha was making trouble here, she did it through you after Tamlin’s father left him the business. Perhaps she’s trying to get into his good graces by running out businesses he wants to replace and striking at you is just another offering to him as well.” She turned in her stool. “I have a fresh pot of coffee on, I’ll get you some.”

“Sit, eat,” he spun her back to her pastry. “I am perfectly capable of pouring my own coffee.” He grinned when Feyre turned right back to the report and started scanning it again. She was smart, incredibly so. How far would she have gone if someone had taken the time to help her with her dyslexia? “How do you know which businesses Tamlin targeted?”

“I have a lot of free time between your meetings,” she snorted. “I’ve read through the files that were put on my computer, or at least the ones about Velaris Incorporated. I’m just starting on the other ones.”

Rhys nodded though he hadn’t been aware she had access to any of those files. If she had them, it was that Azriel had given her authorization to see them. Most other people would take the down time to do something they wanted, but Feyre had decided to read through files though she had a hard time reading quickly.

“Feyre,” he set his cup of coffee down next to hers and planted a kiss on her shoulder. Her slightly pointed ear turned toward him though her eyes were still on the report. “Let me take you out today. We could go to the art museum or explore some of the galleries in town.”

“I have my art class,” she murmured. 

“I’ll drive you there and pick you up after,” he promised. “And then I’ll take you out.”

“I doubt anything I deem suitable to wear to an art class will be suitable for a date,” she told him honestly. “I’ll get covered in paint.”

“Not something to worry about, Darling. We should have a couple of fun days before we go back and face this nonsense,” he nodded to the reports.

“Are you sure you’re Mr. Nox?” Feyre demanded, spinning to face him. “Last I checked, he worked from home and I was told by his family to make sure he takes breaks every now and then.”

“We’re at home, Feyre Darling. It’s just Rhys now and I believe it might be my job to convince you to keep going on dates with me,” he stepped closer, nudging her legs apart to stand between them. “And not just with my amazing skills at making you beg in the bedroom.”

“Prick,” she breathed out.

“Careful, Darling. The more you say such naughty things, the more I feel the need to prove you right,” he whispered as he leaned over her.

“Aren’t you supposed to prove me wrong?” She murmured, her eyes already closing.

“Where would the fun be in that?” He pressed his lips to hers and she smiled against his lips. “How long until your art class?”

“It’s at three and done at five,” she murmured.

“Good, then I have plenty of time,” he grinned down at her. That pulled her attention away from his kissing. She leaned back to stare up into his face.

“Plenty of time for what? Aren’t you exhausted after last night?” She demanded.

“Plenty of time to take you out walking around downtown. I’ll show you some of the shops and businesses Velaris helps with,” he offered her his hand. “As much as I like you in my shirt, and only my shirt,” he confirmed as he nudged the hem up a little higher to see she was wearing no shorts and nothing else beneath it either. “I do think you should get a little more dressed.”

Feyre stuck her tongue out at him and he held in a comment about where that very talented tongue could go as she went to get changed. He looked to the reports again while he waited. Knowing his entire family had keys to his townhouse and the codes to the alarms had made it a habit for him to dress before ever leaving his bedroom. Cassian and Mor had walked in on him naked one too many times for him to be comfortable. Though, perhaps with Feyre about they would be a little more cautious. He knew they were well aware he and Feyre had at least slept together once. They probably suspected they were always on each other now that Rhys had her in his house as a roommate. Just in case, he would try and establish a new rule about calling before coming over.

“Ready,” Feyre appeared in the doorway. She looked radiant as ever in a pair of charcoal leggings and a long blue shirt that she had belted over her waist. Her hair was braided back but her face was clear of makeup. Not that she ever needed it. 

“You look stunning, Darling, as always,” he stood and drained his coffee. “Now, I think it’s time I showed you the better side of our business.”

They drove to Nox Industries to park and then Rhys led Feyre to a number of smaller stores tucked between the skyscrapers and big businesses. He took her to boutiques and watched to see what she would spend a few more seconds looking at though he was certain he had a hold of her style both professionally and casually. He took her to a coffee shop that served homemade coffee cakes in various flavors to give her a treat and then he pulled her down the street to an unassuming brick building with a powder blue awning over the door.

“This place is special,” Rhys announced. “One of my mother’s acquisitions. It’s the place my mother worked as a seamstress at after my father freed her. I’m going to warn you though, they do menswear on one side, and the other side is a bridal shop.”

“Why would you need to warn me?” She teased back. “Afraid I’ll think you’re trying to suggest something?”

“You never know,” he winked at her. “Perhaps I am.” He steered her through the doors, excitement running through his veins. It had been a week. One week of being intimate with Feyre and he was already certain one day he would be taking her here to get her wedding gown for their wedding. Or rather, he hoped she would agree to marrying him one day.

Inside they walked straight into the men’s area as was intended by whoever set up the shop. It was supposed to keep the men out of the bridal area to preserve the whole ‘grooms shouldn’t see the dress before the wedding day’ mentality. Racks of suit coats, pants, and shirts lined the floor while mannequins wore tuxedos. A pedestal along the back wall next to the changing area had a stool and sewing supplies next to it where custom orders were measured out.

“Rhysand!” He heard a woman call and he turned to see the owner stepping out of the wedding area. He smiled at the older woman that had known his mother so well. She was half the reason walking in always felt like coming home. The other half was his mother’s lingering presence. “Are you in need of another suit? You don’t appear to have changed in size. A tux, perhaps?” 

“As you know I am well stocked on clothes from you. I was just showing someone around,” Rhys nodded to where Feyre was walking between racked of button up shirts and ties.

“Hello,” she chimed, looked up to the shop owner.

“A new friend, Rhysand?” The owner teased him.

“Feyre is my personal assistant, so I’m showing her all of the businesses we help,” Rhys explained.

“On a Saturday?” The woman raised an eyebrow at Rhys until he simply blushed.

“She’s also my…” he hesitated. He had nothing to really call her. They had only really been on one date. Beyond that, they were intimate but were they exclusive. Well he knew they were only seeing each other but had they agreed that was how they wanted to stay?

“His girlfriend. That’s the word he is looking for,” Feyre supplied. “Rhys, you would look good in colors other than black. Has anyone ever mentioned that to you?”

“Every time he comes in and insists on black shirts and black ties, Feyre,” the owner teased. “I like this one. Feel free to look around. There’s a bride back in that section with her sister, but I doubt either will notice someone else wandering around.” She waved to the bridal area. “And feel free to convince this one he’d at least look good in a dark violet or perhaps a deep blue.”

“She’s right, you know,” Feyre murmured coming to stand at his side.

“Girlfriend?” He asked, his mind still stuck on how she had so casually used the word.

“I thought you wanted to date me. Isn’t that what you call the girl you are dating?” She asked.

“Yes, but I wasn’t sure you’d agree to the term quite yet,” he told her, attempting to be very honest. She rose up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Alright, for you, I will try on something that isn’t black.” He turned and set about finding something he might branch out to. “Go explore.”

Feyre pulled a dark violet shirt from a rack, handed it to him, and made for the bridal section while he went to try on the shirt. Not to his surprise, it was a good match for his coloring and nearly matched his eyes. Knowing his family would have comments, he resigned himself to purchasing the one shirt and then started to browse for ties. It would be less strange for him to start wearing other colors of ties and perhaps that would be a victory enough for Feyre.

When he had his selections purchased, he went in search of Feyre thinking she had found a gown that had caught her eye. But Feyre wasn’t staring at a gown when he found her frozen between two mannequins in bridesmaid gowns. She was staring at the pedestal where a very pretty young woman stood in a gown that suited her beauty. Her golden hair had been pinned up under a veil and she was staring at herself in the mirror, swishing the skirts from side to side. The chair next to the pedestal was held by… Rhys blinked once, then twice. By a woman that looked almost exactly like Feyre. Her hair was the same shade of golden brown and even from here he could see her piercing gaze of blue gray eyes. Her bone structure was slight sharper and her mouth appeared to be stuck in a permanent scowl when she wasn’t looking at the blonde.

“Oh! It’s perfect, Nesta! Don’t you think! Grayson is going to love it and everything is going to be perfect! Everyone that matters to me will be there to see me married!” The blonde gushed into the mirror, her brown eyes on the cold one in the chair.

“Grayson would love it if you showed up at all. His father on the other hand might have something to say no matter how expensive the gown is,” came the cool voice.

“Oh, pish. His opinion doesn’t matter. Oh! Can you just imagine? I’ll have a bouquet of peonies and English roses with ivy trailing down. And you will be my maid of honor. I promise the dress won’t be too revealing for you. And then Grayson and I will be married and he and I will dance the night away.” The blonde sighed. “And it will be my happily ever after, and everyone important will be there to see it.”  
Rhys felt and saw Feyre physically flinch at the words. Her skin was quickly losing color as she continued to watch.

Somewhere in Rhys’ mind he remembered Feyre talk about her sisters. About there being two of them. About how they had failed to come see their father buried. That was all he truly knew about them. He had no doubts the cold one was Feyre’s sister by her looks alone. The other, he had to really look at to notice the similar bone structure in the face. Judging by Feyre’s reaction, this was the first she was hearing of a wedding though he knew they had texted her the day they had decided burying their father wasn’t more important than a shopping trip.

“I’m going to take this off so we can buy it,” the blonde informed her sister and went into the changing room.

Rhys reached for Feyre’s hand, intending to take her away from the situation but she started at the contact and accidentally knocked into one of the mannequins. Not enough to knock it over but enough that the cold sister heard the noise and looked up. Her eyes narrowed on Feyre and she pulled herself up from the chair as Feyre stepped back once, then twice.

“Feyre,” the cold one hissed. “What are you doing here? You’re going to ruin everything.”

“Elain is getting married?” Feyre asked.

“Yes, to a senator’s son so she doesn’t need her half feral, illiterate, prostituting, embarrassment of a sister coming to ruin her day,” the hiss seemed to have hit its mark on Feyre and her cheeks flushed red before she spun around and ran back into the menswear section, likely for the door.

Rhys debated for a moment before he stepped up to look down his nose at the cold female in front of him. To her credit she didn’t back down though he knew plenty of other people who would have.  
“Anyone would be lucky to have that young woman as a sister. From what I’ve gathered, she sacrificed a lot for her family and if this is how she is treated after everything, I can only hope the Cauldron has some karma in its eddies for you,” he turned and walked straight into the menswear section and right up to the counter. He had every thought of telling the owner what was happening and to give up the sale, but it wouldn’t do him any good to have her loose out on business for his revenge on what had been said and implied.

“Change your mind already?” The owner teased him with a nod to the bag.

“Actually, I was hoping you’d put that bride’s gown and any accessories she decides on on my tab, and of course any alterations. When or if she asks, you can tell her it’s a wedding gift from her sister.”

“You are friends with that viper of a woman?” The owner asked.

“No, I’m currently dating her other sister,” he nodded to where Feyre was standing outside of the door, her arms around herself.

“Oh… oh,” the owner frowned. “This is a messy one, isn’t it?”

“Aren’t weddings always messy?” Rhys asked. “So again, a gift from her other sister.”

“Right, of course,” the owner nodded. “I’ll have the bill sent to you.”

Rhys didn’t stick around after that as he went outside to pull Feyre into his arms. She let out a quiet sniffle but otherwise it was hard to tell she was crying at all.

“It’s about time I take you to your art class. You can go and get yourself completely coated in paint and then we can have a nice quiet dinner at home,” he promised.

“You’re going to cook?” She asked into his chest.

“No. Not even I would subject you to that. Either I’ll drag Cassian out to cook for us or I’ll find something to bring home,” he promised. “Let’s get going.”

He dropped her off at her art class a little later and went to make a plan for dinner. He was certain that Feyre should have received a text or a call from her sisters well before they arrived at the community center Feyre took her classes at, but nothing had come and Feyre hadn’t said a single thing about the encounter. The more he thought on it, the more pissed Rhys was. How dare that viper call Feyre anything she had? Feyre was a beautiful, cultured, and hard-working woman that had sacrificed herself for her family and they called her an embarrassment amongst other terrible things.

Rather than return home, Rhys drove to the small condo Azriel kept close to Nox Industries. His brother wasn’t alone as Cassian was there. They were both in workout clothes which told Rhys they had likely been training just before he had come up.

“Two things,” Rhys started when they looked to him. His temper to a point where he was ignoring pleasantries his brothers didn’t need. “I need to come up with something to make or something to bring home for a private dinner tonight for Feyre,” he looked to Cassian. The man was an expert on food. “And I want everything you have on Feyre’s family. I don’t care what reason you have it for, I know you have it.” He looked to Azriel to see him grinning.

“Did Feyre not put out enough last night so you need to come be demanding of us?” Cassian teased.

“I would like to believe you will retract that statement, but I know better,” Rhys snarled at his brother. “Forget about the food. I’ll stop and get something from Sevinda and tell her not to serve you for the rest of the month.”

“Ouch, it bites,” Cassian teased. “If you’re looking for something a little more romantic than Illyrian, I have some ideas.”

“I’m thinking more comfort than romantic at this rate,” Rhys replied with a sigh. Feyre would need comfort more than romance. Some good food, some comfortable pajamas, and a nice movie would likely mean more to her than some fine dining experience any night.

“Ah, well, in that case, I’d better come over and cook. I can’t imagine you’d want to poison your girl,” Cassian teased. “I’m going to go hit up the store to get supplies and I’ll meet you there.”

His brother left and Rhys turned to Azriel who was already typing away on his laptop. He paused for a long moment and looked up at Rhys. “Are you sure you want this?”

“I’m positive,” Rhys assured him. Then his brother turned the screen towards him.

Feyre had spoken accurately of her father and his history. He knew her mother had died when she was eight or so. Those things weren’t new information. But it was the files on her sisters that drew his attention.

Nesta, the cold one, was four years older than Feyre. Had graduated from a prestigious high school and then had gone on to the university to study literature. She currently worked for a branch of Day Publishing. There was a brief note about an engagement to a Tomas Mandry but the engagement was called off after only a few months. Whether it was because Nesta or Tomas called it off wasn’t noted.

Elain was only a year younger than Nesta. She had also graduated from the same prestigious high school and had also gone on to the university. She had studied botanical sciences and business management and had gone on to buy a flower shop that operated out of the southern part of the city. It was noted she was engaged to Grayson Lord, son to Nolan Lord, a prominent senator with an elitist attitude and a strong dislike for anyone of native or immigrant status. Rhys had met the man once and they hadn’t gotten along since, mostly because it was clear Rhys had native blood.

“Feyre didn’t go to this high school,” Rhys pointed to the name of the prestigious school listed on both sisters’ files.

“No. It was the first sacrifice Feyre made. They couldn’t afford to send all three of them to private schools so Feyre went to the public school while the other two went to the private school. It likely ate up most of the last of their money,” Azriel sat down next to him. “After Feyre’s father died, they moved in together near the college campus. They left Feyre behind and I don’t believe they’ve really spoken to her since. From what I gather from the information is those two have always been close with each other and not with Feyre.” Azriel paused a moment. “What happened to set you off on this path?”

Rhys explained the entire situation and Azriel only nodded, collecting the information for himself. “I think it bothers me that they are older than her and they didn’t appear to lift a finger to help Feyre bring in an income. There’s no mention of jobs they took to help her or anything here.”

“No. They didn’t help her,” Azriel confirmed. “I have no noted incomes from them through that entire time.”

“And yet, they can’t bother to invite Feyre to her own sister’s wedding,” Rhys growled.

“There are worse things those that share blood can do to a person,” Azriel commented quietly. Rhys stopped and glanced to Azriel’s scarred hands. The burn marks were permanent though he knew Azriel had had them evaluated by Dawn Medical to see if anything could be done. One of the few physical scars Azriel carried from his half-brothers. “Painting will help sort Feyre out. She always is happier after her classes.”

“And you know this how?” Rhys raised an eyebrow.

“Because I’ve talked to her,” Azriel rolled his eyes. “I told you, I like Feyre. Sometimes we have lunch together when you’re busy with meetings.”

“Right, I don’t suppose you have any files on her artwork I might see,” Rhys nodded to the computer.

“I may have a piece or two she sent me photographs of,” Azriel chuckled. “But I’m not going to show them to you. If you can get her to date you and move into your townhouse, you can man up and ask her about her artwork.”

“It’s hard to keep ahead of her if you don’t help me,” Rhys reminded his brother as he stood to leave.

“You should work for this one,” Azriel called after him. “She’s worth it.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Feyre!” Rhys called through his open office door. “Can you set up a meeting with the Board of Directors?” He growled at the email Mor had sent him. The Board was getting out of hand. They were trying to pursue their own interests using company marks but their own interests were leaning too far towards illegal.

“How soon?” She called back, probably far too used to him snapping out orders the last couple of weeks as stress ate at him. He always apologized and she always assured him she knew he wasn’t actually yelling at her. She even assured him that she was getting frustrated with the whole Hybern and Velaris situation as he started finding more and more things she could assist him with on those particular problems.

“If they are all down there, now,” he growled.

“Yes, Sir!” She called back and picked up her phone. 

He owed her. Yes, she was paid well, but she wasn’t only taking on the burden of helping him with the extra stress at work. She had also taken it upon herself to help him unwind as soon as they got home each night. Sometimes it was in the form of some very delicious looking lingerie she had found in a Velaris owned shop that she promised never to visit again without him present to help her narrow down the choices. Other times it was with a shoulder rub and a bottle of wine while they found something to watch together on the couch.

“They will be in their Board room in 15 minutes,” Feyre called back to him. “What would you like me to do while you are down there yelling at them?”

“Actually,” Rhys came to stand next to her. He rubbed the back of his neck while he tried to reconcile what he wanted to ask with how it should come out. Since Feyre had started taking on more work, he had realized how much of an asset she was. She was intuitive, clever, and had quite an ability to connect dots no one thought to connect before. It was giving him a new perspective on his business that he wasn’t aware he was missing. “I was thinking I should have you come with me.”

“Into your Court of Nightmares?” Feyre asked, using Mor’s name for the Board of Directors.

“I’d like you to see how I handle them, and I want your impressions after,” he told her. “Your talents would be much appreciated.”

“Which talents are you referring to, exactly?” She purred out and he felt his pants grow tighter immediately. Not that they had ever done anything but work while at work, Rhys had fantasized about Feyre’s very talented mouth and hands helping ease his more stressful days. He wouldn’t breech the trust that he had built up with her that they could remain mostly professional at work, but some comments strained his abilities.

“I’m talking about these talents,” he stroked a finger down her temple. “These ones will have to wait until we get home if you’re so inclined,” he brushed a finger over her lips.

“What if I’m inclined now?” She asked, her voice lowering into one of her more seductive tones. “We have fifteen minutes and part of you seems interested.” She got up from her chair and pressed Rhys back into it.

“Maybe we should go somewhere slightly more private?” He asked as she unzipped his pants.

“You can see the elevator monitor. You’ll know if anyone is coming,” she murmured and then set to work.

It didn’t take long for him to be almost shouting Feyre’s name as she showed off yet another way she could help relieve some of the tension he carried. Then she was done and smiling up at him. She pressed a lingering kiss to his thigh and then excused herself to the restroom to fix herself up. Rhys simply stared after her. Yes, he definitely owed her.

She was back before long looking completely immaculate as she led the way to the elevator. “It’s bad for you to face the Board looking so tense, you know,” she murmured when he joined her. “It takes away from the image that you’re unshakable.”

“I know you’re right. But you did not have to do that,” he pulled her in close to him knowing they only had a moment before they were on the Board’s floor all of one level below the executive floor.

“Did I go too far for you? I know the work place is a touchy area for you,” she asked quietly.

“Did you go too far? My Darling, you have more reason to not want me looking at you at work than I will ever have,” he promised her. “She… didn’t usually have me do much at work. Certainly nothing that was for my pleasure. She reserved her more aggressive things for at home.”

While he hadn’t told Feyre much about Amarantha. She knew more than his family did. They had both opened up about past abuses that had left lingering scars one night while cuddling together in bed. Feyre hadn’t just spoken about Tamlin, she had also spoken about her father’s alcoholism, her mother’s apparent lack of care outside of social status, and her sisters and their indifference to her struggles. In turn he had told her about Amarantha and some of the twisted things she had thought to do and the horrors of the night he had lost his family biological family.

“I will pay you back tonight three times over,” he promised, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“You know I’ll be begging you to stop after the second one and demand you ride me,” she teased as the elevator doors opened.

“I’m not seeing this as a problem,” he chuckled. “Ready to see me terrorize people?”

“Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Nox,” she lowered her eyes. A proper, respective looking personal assistant. He supposed he had Tamlin to thank that she knew that part too well. He threw his shoulders back, raised his chin, and walked straight back to the Board Room where the Directors should all have been gathering.

Feyre rushed to open the door for him and all but bowed him into the room. The Board all lowered their heads briefly in slight bows of ‘proper respect’ as had been drilled into them for years as he moved to take his place at the head of the table.

“Stand there,” he turned to Feyre and pointed at a place just behind him. Next time he would ensure there was a chair for her. But she didn’t seem to mind at the moment as she took the place he had indicated.

“What is _she_ doing here?” Keir, Mor’s father and the one who practically ruled the Board behind Rhys and then Mor, growled with a nod at Feyre.

“She is here because I asked her to be. That should be enough for you,” Rhys replied coldly.

“I suppose you have a reason for calling this meeting such short notice,” came the equally cold reply.

“I’m not liking the reports I’ve been receiving. Explain yourselves,” Rhys snapped.

For thirty minutes he listened to them rattle on about expanding business ventures and possible mergers, about politics that would help them make a little more money, and about contracts they wanted signed. By the third time he heard Feyre shift on her feet behind him, Rhys had had enough listening and turned to Feyre. She was by no means weak or incapable of standing there but he knew she was in heels and standing still against the wall for a while was not ideal for anyone.

“Come sit,” he offered and reached a hand out to her. He pulled her down on his knees and spun back towards the Board ready to listen some more, but they were all glaring at him.

“So it’s true,” Keir growled. “You hired Greene’s illiterate whore of an assistant for yourself.”

Rhys felt Feyre level her gaze at Keir but she said nothing. She didn’t even shift though he could tell she was uncomfortable. He, himself, was on the verge of dragging Keir out by the arm and throwing him out the front door for verbally harassing Feyre in anyway.

“You do have to admit, she is unqualified to be anything more than a prostitute,” came a response from another member of the Board.

“Miss Archeron is quite qualified to do anything she sets her mind to. She could take any of your positions the day she announces she has a mind to do so,” Rhys could feel frost in his words. “I’ll be requiring that any thing you want accomplished by this company go through Amren first to determine how legal it is. Feyre will you go find Amren for me? She should start while they are all assembled.”

Feyre rose from his lap gracefully and made for the door. She was almost there when Keir opened his mouth once more. “You’ll get what’s coming to you, Whore. But who knows maybe you like it rough. Greene certainly thought so.”

“Feyre, go.” He all but growled. She didn’t move immediately and he understood why. She was likely still in shock or perhaps she was waiting to see what he was going to do.

Rage. Burning, clawing, cataclysmic rage built up so quickly that all Rhys could see in his mind is shattering every single bone in Keir’s body one by one. He was strong enough to do so and powerful enough he might escape more than a slap on the wrist. But he didn’t want Feyre to see him like that, to see him rage like Tamlin would have. Instead he pressed a button on the phone right in front of his place at the table.

“Send up security. Have them help Keir Gold remove his belongings from the property as he no longer works for us. Ensure all privileges are revoked.” Rhys looked up at his Board. “Anyone have anything they want to say to my assistant now?”

“You can’t just fire people from the Board, we outrank you!” Came the reply.

“Ah, but you all signed new contracts a few years ago. Do you remember the newest clause put in?” Rhys asked, feeling victory calming his rage. They all blinked at him. “There was a specific clause about how one might forfeit their position and all stocks held in the company. A clause specific to harassment indicating harm or sexual harassment.”

Amren had been insistent on that clause when she had written the new contracts up herself. It had been to protect Mor after the tiny woman had found Mor crying after a Board meeting where her father had harassed her so thoroughly that she had broken down. It had originally been meant to protect Mor from her father and his buddies but now it would work for Feyre.

“Your stocks are now forfeit to the company to be distributed as the majority stockholders see fit and you are now without a job. Take your threats and go,” Rhys pointed to the door where two security guards were already waiting. “If anyone else has anything to add they can say it to Miss Drake when she comes to check over what work you’re planning on doing.”

Feyre was gone already, likely having left to get Amren in the middle of his conversation. He would owe her for subjecting her to any of that. The men that made up his Board of Directors all likely shared the same sentiment as Keir but they also liked their power and their money. Now that they knew what was at stake, they wouldn’t be so open about their harassment.

Feyre was at her desk when he finally made it up to his office. She gripped his hand when he walked by and he held it for a long second before he dropped to his knees next to her.

“I wanted to kill him for talking to you like that,” he confessed.

“I was afraid you would. But they are just words, Rhys. I can handle them,” she stroked a hand through his hair.

“You shouldn’t have to handle them. They will learn to respect you and sometimes that means examples must be made,” he murmured. “He will have to be replaced on the Board and as much as I meant you could take his place, I don’t believe you should want to. Those crotchety old men would make you miserable.”

“I’m not sure they are much better than the Board of Directors Tamlin keeps,” she announced. “A bunch of privileged fraternity brothers of his that jump when he says and call it adhering to rank.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I have a dream that one day it will get better.”

“Then let’s start on that,” Feyre murmured. He looked up at her meaning to ask how she foresaw it happening. What she might think to do to bring about those changes gradually enough that it wouldn’t upend his company completely. But the elevator doors opened and Mor marched out, a stormy look on her face.

“You fired my father?” She demanded.

“Call up Cassian, Azriel, and Amren to come up when they have time. We need to have a majority shareholders meeting,” Rhys told Feyre. “And then I want your impressions on the rest of the Board when we have a chance.”

“Yes, Mr. Nox,” Feyre murmured, eyes downcast. 

He was almost sure it was in jest but it tore at his heart more than it had earlier. He pressed a finger under her chin. “I never want you to even pretend you are submissive to me. You are far more powerful than you know and it’s time everyone else here knows it too.”

It took half an hour for his inner circle to appear and to finally sit in the conference room to talk. Rhys explained himself thoroughly and explained exactly what had been said to Feyre. Despite Mor’s initial reaction, she seemed pleased to finally be rid of the man that worked exceptionally hard to make her life miserable. They agreed Mor would step into her father’s place for the time being until a replacement was found. And then they turned their attention to how to distribute Keir’s considerable stock holdings from the company. Once again they were quickly in agreement but Rhys wanted to make sure.

“If we do this, she becomes one of the biggest stock holders in our company,” he clarified.

“Who better?” Cassian stood and stretched.

“She won’t abuse the power,” Amren also stood. “Though you should take some time to explain that power to her. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go torture the Board.”

Feyre didn’t ask about the meeting when he came out. She didn’t ask any of them what was discussed and he loved her for that. He loved that she probably beyond curious but she would let him come to her in time. He planned to give her those details and many more.

“Can you clear my calendar for the rest of the day?” He asked her as he walked by her. She nodded and set to work rescheduling meetings and phone calls while he went to his desk to get the exact information he needed.

When he was ready, he gathered up his wits and went to Feyre’s desk. Once she assured him everything had been rescheduled and entered on the computer, he offered a hand down to her.

“We’re going to get an early dinner,” he told her far more calmly than he felt.

“Oh? Are we coming back?” She asked, reaching for the drawer that held her purse.

“No. I think it would be best if you and I go home for the day after,” he gripped the hand she placed in his.

“To make good on your promise from earlier?” She asked, her pupils dilating slightly.

“To do that and so much more,” he promised.

For the first time, Rhys took Feyre to one of the places he took potential clients. To a place where he was greeted on sight and escorted to the best table without a second thought. Other people dining recognized him immediately as well because they were all big names in the business or political worlds and he could feel their eyes on him and her as he pulled out her chair.

“Any recommendations?” She asked Rhys as they opened their menus.

“Anything that sounds good to you. The chefs here do great work,” he assured her. He made sure they both had wine and then turned his attention back to Feyre who eyed him.

“Why do I feel more like a client than your girlfriend at the moment?” She asked when he didn’t speak right away.

“Because, in a sense, right now you are,” he admitted. “My family has owned and run Nox Industries since the beginning. That man that spoke to you in such a wonderful way is technically family. He is Mor’s father though we use the term loosely. When my ancestor starting this company he had only one son and passed his shares and the position of CEO to him. And this continued on. However, my great grandfather had two sons. He chose who he deemed fit which was my grandfather over Mor’s grandfather. The shares were divided but not equally. Majority share holding still went to my family but it wasn’t the fifty-three percent we had owned before. I’m sure Keir was always bitter his father never received control of the company but you can see how he might have embraced the darker parts of the company.”

“No daughters in all of that time?” Feyre asked.

“Only my father had a daughter. And had she lived, he would have decided between us which would take the company though we were more amicable to each other and likely the other would have ended up with a high position if they wanted in,” Rhys explained. “Keir owned a quarter of my company through shares which he forfeited today. I’m the only person who owned more than him.”

“If between you two, you hold 53% of the company, how much do the others hold if they are majority share holders?” Feyre asked, her curiosity sparking.

“Together they hold another 25% of the company,” Rhys explained. “Leaving the other 22% to my Board of Directors and other investors.”

“But now Keir forfeited his shares so that means you’re back to where your ancestors were,” Feyre pointed out. “What does that mean for you?”

“I’m not back to where they were. It was decided, between my majority share holders, that it would be best if we distribute those shares elsewhere. Normally the shares would have to be bought from Keir but he forfeited them so they are already paid for. They just need to go in someone’s name.” He saw the tiniest frown form on Feyre’s lips. “We would like you to be the one holding those shares.”

Feyre simply stared at him and then glanced around the restaurant like she might be looking for an exit. Then her eyes came back to his.

“But I don’t know the first thing about anything,” she whispered.

“We will teach you,” he assured her. “And really you don’t need to do anything. It gives you some power within the company but how you choose to use it is up to you.”

“I’m just your assistant,” she whispered frantically.

“You’re also my amazing and wonderful girlfriend who does far more for the company than she even realizes,” he assured her.

“But what if things don’t work out between us,” she demanded.

“Should a day come when we decide things aren’t working, then I have no reason to believe you would do any harm to my company.” He kept his voice even and his face smiling though he was desperate to tell her that he sincerely hoped that day never came.

“You’re sure,” she pressed.

“I am sure, Mor was sure, Amren was sure, Azriel was sure, and Cassian was sure. We all agreed to the same person and that should tell you how sure we are,” he told her. For a moment he saw her smile at the thought of the five of them agreeing. It was rare because Amren and Cassian rarely agreed with anything.

“What do I need to do?” She asked finally.

“We will spend dinner here talking about what this means for you and then we are going to get dessert at one of my favorite places and take it home,” he promised her. “Then I’m going to make good on my promises to you.”

They spent the entire dinner discussing what she could and couldn’t do as a shareholder. Then they discussed her position at the company and his desire for her to attend more meetings at his side rather than just have her sit at her desk. And finally, they turned their discussion to the actual wealth that would now be in her name should she ever choose to sell her shares. Rhys took care of the bill and went to help pull out Feyre’s chair, but they were stopped before they reached the exit.

“Mr. Nox, how pleasant it is to see you again,” a cruel voice that brought back every bad memory had him turning to face a pale skinned, red haired woman with a cruel smile. She gave him a look over as if she could see beneath his clothes and then turned calculating eyes on Feyre. “Please introduce me to your client.”

“Miss Scarlett, you know I don’t share clients,” Rhys kept his voice cold. He recognized the politicians sitting at the table with her. “Or did some time in prison make you forget that?” 

He looked to the men at her table before he offered Feyre his arm and steered her well away. They made it outside before he turned to Feyre. “You’re going to walk down the street out of sight of the restaurant. Keep your cellphone on you and have Az’s number on speed dial. If you feel even slightly followed, call him. When you are out of sight of the restaurant, I want you to take a cab. Go anywhere but home. I’ll have someone you and I both trust come and get you.”

“Was that her?” Feyre asked softly.

“Yes, and you need to only look like a client, so you need to go.” 

She nodded and turned to him. “Mr. Nox, I look forward to what we might accomplish together,” she offered her hand and Rhys took it to give it a firm squeeze. Then Feyre was walking away from him, her phone already in hand. He watched for half a second before he made his way to his car. 

“She’s pretty,” Amarantha’s voice came from behind him as he got to his driver’s door. “Your next target on your long list of women you romance and leave behind?”

“A client I succeeded in wooing in a business sense only,” Rhys told her. “Excuse me. I have other meetings to attend to.” He opened his car door and went to shut it after slipping inside, but she caught it and held it open.

“We had such fun together, you and I,” she purred. “I’m looking forward to our exploits again. No one has satisfied my cravings quite like you.”

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I’m too busy,” Rhys went to close the door and this time she moved her hand rather than let it be crushed. He hit the locks a second later and very slowly backed out of his spot. He would return to Nox Industries, leave his car there because he was sure there was a tracker on it, and then he would slip out another way. At least he had gotten Feyre away before Amarantha could inquire too much into her. 

Cassian met him in the garage with Azriel close behind. They said nothing between the three of them as Rhys exited his car and the other two began their search. Between them they searched over the entire care and came up with two tracking devices and a listening device. Azriel scrambled the signals on all of them and then took them to be analyzed further while Cassian escorted Rhys to the security office.

“Feyre called Azriel not too long ago. Someone followed her cab to the art museum. She told us about the encounter and we gave her further instructions,” Cassian explained.

“Good. Is she safe?” Rhys sunk into a chair, his legs shaking.

“Last she messaged me, she had explained herself to the curator and was let into a closed exhibit while they pretended she was a consultant of some sort,” Cassian chuckled. “We’ve set up a hotel room for her for the night. One of the best for a big-time art consultant that you are apparently doing business with.”

“I want her home where I can be with her tonight,” Rhys whispered.

“I know, but it’s for her safety. We knew this was a possible problem when you two started dating and Amarantha came back into the picture,” Cassian placed a hand on his shoulder. “Azriel’s condo is the most secure. You’re going home with him tonight. I have my most trusted men going to bring Feyre to the hotel and to monitor her once she’s there.”

Rhys felt himself sink at the thought. Feyre wasn’t quite in danger but if he gave reason to suspect she was anything to him, they’d have eyes on her. He wanted her close for his own assurances that not only she was safe, but that this nightmare with Amarantha was only that, a nightmare. After that first week where she had occupied her own room for most of the week, they had gradually been spending more and more nights together until now it was rare they even bothered to pretend they were going to sleep apart. It was natural to have her in his bed. Natural to sleep with her tucked against him. And for that night at least, he wouldn’t have that.

His phone pinged a moment later and he looked down to see a message from Feyre. _Don’t worry. I’m safe._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter warning!

Rhys paced his office the next morning. He hadn’t been able to sleep well all night. He kept waking up to nightmares of Amarantha on top of him, her nails ripping open his flesh as she rode him. He had kept waking up with a start and would reach for Feyre only to find she wasn’t there and he was on the couch in Azriel’s living room. He had reached for his phone a few times but Azriel had taken it to make sure it was bug free and virus free. Especially because there were several pictures he and Feyre had taken together on his phone.

The last time he had woken up, Azriel had been there with a cup of coffee and a promise to stop by his favorite bakery on the way to work. Assured Feyre was coming to work, he had gotten her a piece of the coffee cake she had loved the other day as a partial apology for the night apart.

He arrived well before she would and set the coffee cake on her desk and set about making himself coffee and her coffee just to keep himself occupied. He imagined well in his mind that the elevator doors would open at 7:55 like they always did. She would walk in, right past her desk, and straight into his arms. He would apologize a thousand times over and make his final peace offering. An isolated cabin he owed in the mountains in Illyrian territory they could escape to for a week or more if she wanted. They would get away and have a nice vacation. She could paint and he would be content to watch her. Once he made his offer he would kiss her senseless, likely to Cassian’s disgust, because Cassian would come up with her. He was supposed to be the one picking her up.

But 7:55 rolled around and Feyre didn’t come. Rhys felt his heart drop a little, but he reasoned that she would likely not be on time. Cassian had to stop and get her from the hotel. She would have to pack up and check out. Perhaps Cassian would take her out for breakfast, since that was the sort of man he was. He would simply have to wait for her.

By 8:30, the longest he was willing to wait, Rhys called Azriel simply to confirm that Feyre was indeed coming.

“I’m sorry, Rhys,” Azriel murmured on the other end of the phone. “Cassian was supposed to check in with me half an hour ago when he was supposed to get here. He isn’t answering his phone and my tracker shows his car at the hotel, as it has been for an hour.” There was a pause. “I’m on my way out now to check on them. Perhaps she just overslept or… there’s a very nice restaurant in the hotel. I could see Cassian treating her to breakfast. You know how he is.”

“Right,” Rhys sighed. It was exactly his lines of thinking and he was grateful Azriel was going in person to check. “But I’d like to come with you.”

Despite the assurance that Azriel did have it covered and that Rhys was supposed to appear to have a strictly professional relationship with Feyre, he couldn’t be swayed from his decision and Azriel waited as Rhys ran down to join him in the garage.

It was a tense drive to the hotel. It was further away than he would have liked, but it was truly one of the best. Azriel went in search of Cassian whose phone showed him still at his car once they got there. Rhys went to the front desk.

“Can you tell me if Miss Archeron has checked out yet?” He asked the pretty girl at the desk.

“She’s a popular one,” the girl giggled. “And so many handsome men looking for her.” The girl giggled again and typed into the computer. “I thought the red head with the one eye was handsome, or his blonde friend, but you take the cake by far.”

Rhys felt his heart stop. There were plenty of blonde men in the world but only one he was aware of that traveled with a red head with one eye. Tamlin and Lucien had been here. They had come looking for Feyre.  
“It looks like Miss Archeron is still checked in. Can’t give you the room number though. That’s against our privacy policy of course,” she giggled. It reassured Rhys that even if he was handsome, she still wouldn’t give out the room number to him. That meant Tamlin and Lucien only knew she was there, not where she was exactly.

“Can you call up to her room for me?” Rhys asked with a nod to the hotel phone. “You can just dial the room number for me and I’ll close my eyes so I don’t see.”

“Of course.” She picked up the phone and Rhys made a show of closing his eyes, hopefully charming the young woman enough that she wouldn’t notice how he opened his eyes enough to see her dial in 1680, one of the suites at the top of the hotel. The girl tapped his shoulder to get him to open his eyes and handed the phone over as it rang, and rang, and rang, and finally went to a generic voicemail.

“Miss Archeron, this is Mr. Nox. You missed our important meeting this morning so I thought I’d come check in personally. Please call me when you get this message.” Rhys decided to play the game and he saw the girl at the front desk gasp when he said his name and quickly advert her eyes. Then he hung up the phone and smiled at the girl. “Thank you.”

“Y-y-you’re welcome, Mr. Nox.” Gone was the giggle, replaced by a stammer that likely came from fear rather than some sort of admiration.

He walked away then, out of the girl’s sight, just as his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He expected Feyre. Hoped it was Feyre. That she had just gotten out of the shower or something and had listened to his message, or perhaps had been screening her calls. But the ID showed Azriel.

“We have a problem,” came Azriel’s voice on the other end. “Cassian is unconscious in his car. Drugged, it looks like. I don’t know what room number Feyre is in to check on her.”

“I know where she is. I’ll go look. You try and get that brute to wake up.” Rhys hung up the phone and felt panic start to claw at his chest once more. He was to the elevator a moment later punching the button for the 16th floor.

Everything was fine, he kept telling himself. Everything would be fine. Feyre just hadn’t gotten the call from Cassian because Cassian had been attacked in his car. She was screening her calls, or was indeed in the shower. Something, anything. He grasped at wisps of logic to try and keep him from jumping to anything else.

But on the 16th floor, the door to 1680 was open. Not all the way, but not latched. He knocked and pushed it open. 

Instead of the immaculate suite he expected, he was greeted with a disaster area. Lamps were shattered on the ground. The mattress was overturned and the bedding was strewn everywhere. The chairs around the table and from the desk were overturned and some were broken. Both security guards that had been placed on her for the night were unconscious. But it was the bathroom door that had Rhys breathing far to shallow and quick for his own good. It was ripped off of its hinges. The shower curtain had been torn from the curtain rod and appeared to be missing. And the mirror in the bathroom was shattered in one place… with blood and long strands of long golden-brown hair imbedded in the glass.

“Feyre,” he whispered as he went to touch the hair. Then he lifted his phone and called down to Azriel. “We have a bigger problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter because I desperately wanted to post this weekend and didn't have much time. I have a short chapter which I normally would have built on but I (deviously) feel like I left off in a good place.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys discovers who has Feyre. The "High Lords" meet (minus Beron and Tamlin because who needs those arses)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't make you wait long! Got some time in today.

It was a long afternoon for Rhys, which he spent at his townhouse rather than the office.  Mor sat with him, patting his hand or back whenever he would start to panic again.  Azriel had convinced him to leave the hotel, to go back to work while he addressed Feyre’s disappearance and the now three unconscious men.

Azriel hadn’t called law enforcement.  Instead he had sent off the three men to the hospital in ambulances and had gathered what evidence he could himself.  Then told the hotel to bill him with the cost of the damages before he had gone to the hospital.

The call had come around noon about Cassian and the two other guards having been shot with powerful tranquilizer darts.  The darts had been removed after depositing their drugs.  Once Azriel had been assured the two guards and Cassian would be fine and would get thorough check ups once awake, he had gone to tear apart what evidence he had gleaned from Feyre’s hotel room.

After work hours, everyone would gather at the townhouse to discuss how to proceed.  But until then, Rhys was left without a shred of sanity.  There were two possible options and they seemed connected.  Either Tamlin and Lucien had taken Feyre, or Amarantha had.  Either way, she wasn’t in a good place.  Tamlin had turned love into torture and Amarantha just tortured.  There was no real way around any of it.

At 6:30, Amren arrived first with what Rhys could only assume was a peace offering of plenty of take out from Sevinda’s.  Though Amren wasn’t particularly fond of Illyrian food, he knew she was fond of Feyre.  Shortly after she arrived Cassian came in with Azriel.  They all sat at the dining table with the shades drawn to pick at food no one was truly interested in despite it being just as delicious as usual.

“Well, I guess I’ll start,” Amren broke the silence first.  “This was dropped off in the lobby for you today at the front desk.  Pretty much got mixed into the mail and when I had security review the footage we couldn’t pin down when it arrived or who brought it.”  She dropped an opened letter on the table in front of Rhys.

_Nox,_

_Your personal assistant is safe, for now.  Do not involve law enforcement.  Any attempts to locate her will cause harm to her.  We will send further instruction._

_\--A_

Rhys froze as he realized it was Amarantha who had Feyre.  She also knew Feyre wasn’t a client, but his personal assistant.  Hopefully that is all she thought Feyre was.  It would go better for Feyre if that was all she was.

“Feyre was smart this morning,” Azriel spoke softly.  “She hid her cell phone.  Possibly half the destruction of the room was in attempt to locate it.  She hid it behind the toilet.  Considering some of the incriminating pictures and texts on here,” Azriel produced the phone.

“Incriminating?”  Mor demanded.

“Pictures of her and Rhys, or of Rhys alone certainly not working, and little lover’s texts,” Azriel clarified.

“Pictures of you naked on her phone Rhys?  I’m surprised.  I didn’t think you would do that sort of thing,” Cassian commented, his humor still subdued.

“Not of me naked, Smart Ass,” Rhys rolled his eyes.  What Azriel had meant by pictures of him not working, were pictures Feyre had taken of him randomly around the house.  She hadn’t explained herself when he had finally caught her doing it and she had kept it up afterwards.  He flipped the phone around to show a picture of him cooking them breakfast the previous weekend and swiped to the side to show him later that afternoon sprawled on the couch with a book.

“I’m a little surprised you do something other than sit in your office here.  We used to have to drag you out.  I didn’t think you used your living room anymore for any reason,” Cassian took a hold of the phone. 

“Feyre doesn’t- didn’t like when I worked late at night or on weekends if I didn’t have to,” Rhys stumbled through the sentence.

“The correct way to say that is ‘doesn’t’,” Amren told him.  “She’s kidnapped, not dead.  We are going to get her back.”

“Not involving law enforcement is easy.  At least until we get a lock on everything.  Amarantha isn’t sloppy in her work so it will take time to get evidence gathered.  Hotel rooms are impossible for finger prints because hundreds of people go through there a year.  That was certainly Feyre’s hair and blood you found.  The type of the blood matches,” Azriel confirmed.  “No notes left behind or indication of where they may have gone.  Surveillance at the hotel is fuzzy at best and there’s no sign of her leaving the hotel.  I’d guess they knocked her out, used the missing shower curtain, and hid her in a laundry cart or possibly a suitcase to get her out.”

Rhys felt his heart constrict.  He could imagine Feyre stuffed into a suitcase.  He could imagine her being tossed into a trunk of car and waking up in a tiny place, in terror, not knowing what would be happening to her shortly or where she was.  He was supposed to have kept her safe and now she was in danger.

“Rhys,” Mor turned to him, drawing him out of his thoughts.  “Maybe we involve others.  Not law enforcement… but perhaps we should call on Summer Hospitalities and maybe we call Helion at Day Publishing.  Amarantha held hostages in their families the last time she had any sort of power here.  They will know what to expect of her.”

“Right,” Rhys nodded.  Tarquin hadn’t been a hostage but his father and uncle had been.  It was how he had become a CEO so young when his grandfather had passed away only two years before.  He would know very intimately what to expect.  Helion had had a lover go in as a hostage that did not walk out again.  “Let’s somehow stage a meeting that won’t look suspicious.”

“I can make that happen,” Azriel promised.

“Then do it, as soon as possible,” Rhys stood from the dinner table.  “Excuse me.”

He knew it was unhealthy to walk away from his family.  He knew it was unhealthy to hide in his room and let the panic he felt for Feyre take over.  He knew it wasn’t good that he was sitting on the floor, curled up, hearing Amarantha’s voice taunting Feyre the way she used to taunt him.  But he knew the thoughts were going to come and he’d rather his family not see him like that, that anyone see him like that.

It took until the following Monday for anything to be arranged with his fellow CEO’s to meet for what, on paper, was a meeting about possible mergers.  Rhys wasn’t sure the reasoning was believable as Helion ran a publishing company and Tarquin ran resorts and hotels, but it was believable enough that the media had picked up on it.  Nothing had come to him yet.  Feyre had been missing since Friday morning and he had heard nothing.  Nothing over the weekend, no instructions, but he had heard all about how other major CEO’s were stirring as three major corporations looked like some sort of alliance might form.  Something that hadn’t happened in a long time.

“Rhys,” Cassian called from the lobby.  It was his way of alerting him that Helion and Tarquin had arrived.  And they had come, with small entourages that were completely expected if they were to be doing some sort of true big business deal.  Cassian had come ahead of them while his men did a thorough check over of each of them.

“What is the plan for the extras?”  Rhys asked after a moment.

“Mor is treating them to a nice relaxing movie day in the executive lounge,” Cassian promised.  “She’s going to accompany them up.”

“Right,” Rhys nodded and wandered into the conference room, but not before he stopped at Feyre’s desk and ran his fingers across it once more.  Cassian, wisely, said nothing about it as he watched Rhys the entire walk into the conference room.

Rhys settled himself into his chair and waited with his back to the glass wall.  He didn’t want to see everyone that would come in because if anyone knew what this was actually about, it would hurt to see their pity.

“This way,” Cassian’s voice was unusually quiet.  Likely an attempt at respect for the other CEO’s that held some sort of decent standing.

He waited as he heard the door to the conference room close and seats be taken before he turned to face the table.  For a moment he was stunned.  It wasn’t just Helion and Tarquin before him.  He also recognized Thesan from Dawn Medical, and Kallias the CEO of Winter Insurance.

Helion, Rhys was actually friends with.  They were close in age and had attended the university together.  The large, dark skinned man was a clever thinker, a fast absorber of knowledge, and a lover of orgies and polyamorous relationships.  They didn’t cross paths much in the world of business which kept them apart but he knew he could count on Helion for discretion and as a friend.

Tarquin, he had only truly met the once when he had flirted with Feyre at the art gallery but he knew the man had started attending Feyre’s art classes, on her advice, to seek out new artists to support.  The reports from Feyre were enough that he could trust Tarquin would do the right thing.

Thesan was usually a neutral CEO.  He did good work and Rhys never had a reason to interfere with him, and Thesan never had a reason to dislike him beyond more than reputation.  Why he was there was a better question.

And Kallias, well that one just threw him for a loop.  Kallias had hated Rhys in the past when Amarantha had controlled him.  There had been an “accident” that had appeared to have been caused by Nox Industries.  It had killed nearly two dozen children in one of the childcare centers Winter kept for its employees.  It had truly been caused by Amarantha and her cronies, but Rhys had been unable to defend himself.  He had sent his apologies after the fact as part of his healing and had paid to have the center rebuilt far better than it had been before, as well as a memorial for the children lost, but nothing would assuage his guilt in the situation and he doubted Kallias actually forgave him.

“I have to say, I’m impressed with your people, Rhysand,” Helion commented after a moment.  “Though Azriel has always been quite the hacker.  He made this meeting appear on my calendar like it had been booked between us two months ago.”

“The same,” Tarquin nodded.  “I’d be worried if I was on your bad side.”

“You’re not,” Rhys promised.  “Feyre speaks highly of you, and I have no reason to believe any bad of you.”

“Yes, the matter at hand,” Helion waved out at the empty desk in the lobby.  “I hope you don’t mind that I invited Thesan and Kallias.  If Amarantha is pulling this crap again, I thought we should all be in the know.  Your hacker agreed and added them to his agenda.”

“I’m surprised no one thought to invite Beron or Tamlin if they thought everyone should be in the know,” Rhys looked around.

“Beron is a greedy bastard who only looks out for himself.  I feel bad for his wife and that youngest son of his,” Helion explained.

“And word out there is that Tamlin is working with Amarantha,” Thesan added.  “No need to bring those two into what can be a nice civilized meeting.  Then I can go out and tell the media that is gathered outside that we discussed business ethics we are hoping to adopt to better Prythian together.  They will believe it coming from me.”

“Appreciated,” Rhys sighed.  “Here is what I know of Amarantha, Hybern, and Spring’s involvement.”  He listed out the pointed attacks on Velaris as if he had simply been tracking her movements, not as if he personally had connections.  Then he spoke of the Illyrian mountains and the move to get the reservation rights revoked in order for Hybern to move in there.  When he was done, he looked to Helion.

“Then she took your personal assistant as a bargaining chip for your cooperation,” Helion finished.

“Feyre is more than your person assistant though,” Tarquin cut in.  “You two are seeing each other.  If you aren’t after that subtle threat at the art gallery, then I’ll eat my shirt.”

“Yes, Feyre is my girlfriend as well as my personal secretary,” Rhys confirmed.  “I don’t think Amarantha knows who she has.  At least, I hope she doesn’t know.”

“You’ve never been through this before,” Kallias pointed out.

“I did… terrible things to keep my family out of her mind last time,” Rhys shuddered at the thought.

“You were her whore,” Kallias’ voice had turned cold.

“Yes,” Rhys breathed out.  “So I know what tortures she can unfold first hand.”

“From your timeline she took Feyre on Friday morning or likely super late Thursday night,” Tarquin cut in.  “With my father and uncle, she made us stew for three days after we received the initial note.  I’d expect something today and don’t plan on it being pleasant.”

“About the same pattern here,” Helion agreed.

“Three tends to be her number,” Kallias interjected.  “That daycare center accident happened three days after I rejected a business contract with what I assumed was the actual Nox Industries.”

Rhys nodded along, knowing the details.  Amarantha wanted to jack up insurance prices to keep people paying themselves into poverty so she had sought to merge Nox with Winter.  Except Winter had declined the “generous” offer of do it or else.  Then one of the areas Rhys had a mining contract with right next to the daycare center apparently hit a gas pocket and suffocated the center above it. 

“Check your email or phone,” Thesan instructed.  Rhys touched his phone and brought up his work email through it.  Immediately he found an anonymous email with an attachment.  He opened it and the video attached started to play immediately.

“Feyre, Fey-re, Fay-ruh…” Amarantha’s voice taunted as an exhausted and already bruised Feyre knelt in the middle of a dark stone room.  Amarantha herself was not in sight.  “What can you tell me about Rhysand that I don’t already know?  You’re the only personal assistant he’s taken.  He seems protective of you.”

“I don’t know anything.  He just makes me get his coffee,” Feyre spoke, her eyes down.

“Is lying any way to start this game, Feyre?”  Came the cruel voice.  A hand with a baton came out of the dark.  The baton stoked down the side of Feyre’s face, almost like a lover might touch her.  She flinched away from the contact.  “Are you going to tell me what I want to know?”

“I don’t know anything.  He likes his coffee black, dark roast, in a very specific mug.  He’s very picky,” Feyre rattled off.  As much as Rhys was mortified by what was happening, he was proud of Feyre.  She was playing the role of his ignorant personal assistant well despite her fear.

“That’s not the correct answer, Feyre,” Amarantha sighed.  “Begin.”

The baton moved away and came back with enough force to send Feyre to the ground.  For the next three minutes he watched Feyre being battered to the point he heard bones breaking.  She cried out, she screamed, but she did not say anything.  Then the assault was over and Feyre was a teary mess on the floor.

“You tell me where to strike Rhysand Nox.  Who his family is, which parts of his business he loves the most, and where his private residence is, and I will let you go.  That will remain the deal, Feyre.  Take her back to her cell.”  Hands hauled her off and Rhys could see blood left behind on the floor where Feyre had been.

“Rhysand, you can come to me and spare her, or I can break her.  One way or another,” Amarantha spoke.  Then the video ended.

“I told you it wouldn’t be pleasant,” Tarquin whispered.

Rhys snapped his head up from his phone completely having forgotten his company in the conference room with him.  It was against everything he had ever been taught for his competition to see him so vulnerable.  To see him wounded in any way.  And despite all of that, Rhys couldn’t help the tremor in his hands as he set the phone on the table or the tears the leaked from his eyes.

“Your father and uncle,” Rhys looked to Tarquin.  “They didn’t survive.”

“They didn’t break and my grandfather didn’t give in,” Tarquin clarified.  “Even if it cost him both of his sons.”

“I need to get Feyre out,” Rhys whispered.  “I need her.”

“So we need a plan to cooperate and to undermine,” Kallias pointed out.

“And to drive Hybern out before he can establish a foothold because he isn’t going to stop at just taking the Illyrian reservation.  He’s going to deplete this land like he did his own,” Helion added.

They spoke for another hour on strategies then agreed to meet again in a week.  Rhys thanked each of them as they left, or at least all of them except Thesan, who hung back and closed the conference room door once more.

“I know enough of the signs of trauma, Rhysand.  Did you ever get help after Amarantha brutalized you?  It’s been years, have you allowed another woman to touch you, or is Feyre the first?”  Thesan nodded to his chair, indicting Rhys should sit once more.

“I had help.  Saw someone to get cooping techniques.  Some days are harder, as you know,” Rhys admitted.  “I’ve been with women since then, but Feyre is the first relationship.”

“She must be truly remarkable,” Thesan smiled at him.

“That she is,” Rhys admitted.

“Then I’m going to give you my card.  With my personal cell phone number.  When you get her out, you call me.  I will see to her care personally.  And if you ever need a referral to a very discreet psychologist, you call.  I’ll get you the best.”  Thesan handed over a handwritten card and Rhys took it.  He doubted he would ever call for himself, but to know that Thesan, a world renowned surgeon and doctor turned CEO would take it upon himself to look after Feyre when they got her out, that was something he wouldn’t pass up.

After pocketed the card, he led Thesan to the door and shook his hand as he had the others.  And only when everyone was gone, he called up Azriel and shared the video with him.  If Azriel was going to get any sort of evidence base to take Amarantha and her cronies down the way he had before, he would need every scrap of information that came, no matter how painful it would be for any of them.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another shorty and another reason for you all to hate me.

It took three weeks.  An agonizing three weeks, for Azriel to get just enough evidence to promise Amarantha wouldn’t get away.  Videos came in like clockwork.  Every third day between 10 AM and 11 AM a message from an untraceable email would come to his mail box.  He watched as the promise Feyre would be safe was long forgotten.  Those emails had gone straight to Azriel after Rhys had watched them through.  Azriel took the videos apart, broke apart the code, searched for any clues to the location as he gathered what evidence Amren would need to go after Amarantha once more.

Then something strange happened.  Rhys received a text on his phone from a number he didn’t know, but he knew by the number itself it wasn’t an untraceable one.  He opened the message and was greeted with a dark lit room just like Feyre was always in, except the angle was all wrong and the message was being sent to him at 1 AM on the third day rather than the normal time.  He was further away from the one lit spot in the room where Feyre indeed was tied to a chair.  Bodies were somewhat in front of him but he could still see.

“Tell me what I need to know, Feyre,” Amarantha spoke and the screen was pulled back enough Rhys could see it was Amarantha holding a gun to Feyre’s temple.  Feyre simply turned her head and spit in Amarantha’s face.  Something Rhys both loved and winced at.  Amarantha pulled the trigger and Rhys audibly cried out as Feyre flinched.  But no, Feyre’s temple had not been shattered by a bullet and she was very much alive.  “How many chances at survival do you have Feyre?  There is one bullet in here, where is it?  How long will you hold out?”

Amarantha repeated the questions and Feyre didn’t answer a single one.  She flinched each time and Rhys did too, horrified at what had happened.  Worse, he could see the light leaving Feyre’s eyes with every click of the unloaded gun, the light he had worked so hard to bring back.  He counted the number of clicks and realized at the same moment Amarantha did, that there was no bullet in the gun.  Someone on her end had failed miserably.

“Looks like you get to live today, Feyre.  Perhaps we will try again tomorrow,” Amarantha purred.  “You know what I want Rhysand.  Arrange to meet with me.”

Then it went quiet in the room but the video still played.  Feyre was carried out and then the lights were brought up.  It was then that Rhys saw them all.  Saw the faces of every single person in the room.  Amarantha and several others he recognized so well from his time dealing with her.  Her personal body guard Mr. Attor likely was the one that kept hauling Feyre around.  And then he saw Tamlin standing right next to where the phone was shooting and Rhys would bet good marks Lucien Vanserra had had enough of watching someone get tortured, enough to risk his own life.

“Someone didn’t load the gun with a blank as I instructed,” Amarantha turned around to face them all.  “Next time I want every chamber filled with blanks.  I want her to scream and I want to see her question which bang will be the one that ends her.”

“I will see to it personally this time,” Mr. Attor’s rasping voice responded.

“Good.  Tamlin, come, we have business to discuss.  Bring your dog,” Amarantha left the room and everyone else filed out, the screen following Tamlin’s broad back as they walked, then the camera flashed by a digital clock on the wall with a calendar date digitally displayed and stopped playing.  End of video.  12:46 AM that same day.  14 minutes before.  And below the clock on the wall was a desk with mail sitting on it, with addresses.

Rhys wasted not one moment as he sent the message on to Azriel and then called him.  Azriel to his credit was awake though it was a Tuesday night.

“I don’t have enough yet,” Azriel reminded him firmly.

“But you will,” Rhys promised.  “I have reason to believe Lucien Vanserra might be feeling some guilt.  I sent you a video I just received anonymously.”

“Give me a few minutes,” Azriel promised.

Rhys threw himself from the bed and went to the kitchen to wait, rather than sit and feel the cold side of the bed where he had gotten far too used to Feyre being in too short of a time.  Her pillow had been pulled into her spot, something for him to hold at night that smelled faintly of her hair, but it was never enough to keep him asleep the way she was.

Azriel’s answer came not by phone but by Cassian barging in the door half an hour later.  He said nothing as he gripped Rhys’ hand and Rhys only had enough time to thank the Mother he had thought to get dressed before his brother dragged him out to the car.  They drove for roughly thirty minutes before he saw the commotion Cassian was aiming for.  Police cars with flashing lights were surrounding a large manor.  A good number of people had been arrested but when Rhys stepped out, Azriel caught him.

“Amarantha is still inside with Feyre,” he murmured.  “She’s got Feyre and herself in some sort of windowless room and has the doors barricaded.  They need someone to go in to try and reason with her but the negotiator isn’t here yet.

“I’ll go.  It’s me she wants anyway,” Rhys stepped forward.  He would go, and see Feyre, and try and get her free.  Amarantha could have him, if it meant Feyre would have a fighting chance to survive far away from Amarantha and Tamlin.

He went to find the nearest officer and offered himself up.  He thought there would be more arguing about him going in but everyone simply nodded and he was given a bullet proof vest under his sweater, a wire to let them hear everything, and let through the caution lines to walk in.  Behind him, SWAT teams followed quietly to point him in the right direction.

The manor was something out if a horror film.  Dark hallways, old furnishings that gave off creepy feelings, and skulls he wasn’t sure were fake held decorations.  But he walked through, down into a basement to a closed door.

“Am?”  He called through the door.  “I’m here to talk.  You wanted a meeting right?”  He spoke and instantly the door opened.  To his surprise she didn’t bother looking beyond him to where SWAT members held position.

“Good, we can talk like we did in old times,” Amarantha purred at him, seemingly unaware she was in danger at all.  “So you got my messages.”  She led him in to a circular room, the same one Feyre was tortured in and now laid on the floor half conscious.  Her head lolled to the side and her dull eyes focused on him.

“Don’t,” her voice came out a breathy rasp.

“A delight this one has been to make scream.  I hope she’s still usable for you after we negotiate your company away,” Amarantha chuckled.

“Is that what you want?  My company?”  Rhys asked.

“Your shares, your position, and control of your Board of Directors,” she laid out for him.  “In exchange, I will leave you in peace.”

“How about this?”  Rhys grinned at Amarantha.  “Don’t you remember what fun we had together?  Perhaps we should resurrect that arrangement.”

“I must say, you’re still tempting to this day, but I have my eyes on another.  So your company it is.”  Amarantha circled Feyre as she spoke and finally sat down behind her, pulling Feyre’s head onto her lap and began stroking her hair.  It was an oddly tender thing for her to do, which made Rhys fear for Feyre all the more. 

“I believe my skills have improved.  I bet I could make you scream my name over and over again tonight alone,” Rhys stepped forward, tried to seduce her.  Anything that once would have worked to get her to focus on him and him alone.  “I’ve been quite hungry lately.”

“I’d believe that,” Amarantha chuckled.  “Or I would if there weren’t police outside and I wasn’t holding the head of your lover in my lap.  Oh, don’t think I didn’t see the way you two looked at each other that day.  I knew what she was the moment I laid eyes on you two.  Funny little thing never let on, but I could sense it.”  Amarantha chuckled.  “But perhaps I should remove temptation from you.  She is a distraction.”

Rhys felt his heart quicken as Amarantha’s hands went down to the sides of Feyre’s head.  He needed to lunge in, he needed SWAT to bust through the door, he needed to buy time.  But then Amarantha snapped Feyre’s head to the side with an audible _snap._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, I'm rearranging the events to my liking. This isn't the end of the story. However, if you need to scream go ahead. It will fuel me (devious laughter).


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out if you want an onslaught of comments you have to make people think a character died. I may need to keep this in mind.... Happy reading.

The next hours of Rhys’ life drew out for years, or so it felt.  He had only felt that way once before when he had received the call about his parents and sister and had rushed to the hospital.  But he hadn’t been at the car crash to witness any of those horrors as he had now done with Feyre.

The scene replayed in his mind a thousand times over as the SWAT team had run in and had arrested Amarantha.  Someone had gone to Feyre and had checked her, had felt a feeble pulse, and had stabilized her head until she could be loaded into an ambulance.  Rhys had ridden with her after calling Thesan, providing what information he could about Feyre’s name, birth date, anything he could that might help them.  No, he didn’t know about allergies.  No, he wasn’t sure about any adverse reactions to drugs or to latex.  No, he wasn’t sure about any past procedures but he could assume they were few and far between with her family and after.

Then as she was whisked away from him in the hospital by Thesan himself and he had waited for hours in the waiting room.  Azriel had joined him after two hours, claiming first watch after he had turned over every video he had of Feyre to the police for their investigation and gave them Amren’s name for charges.

After six hours, Cassian traded out with Azriel, bringing breakfast and coffee with him.

Another two hours saw Rhys pacing the waiting area.  No one had come to talk to him.  Not a single person.  He had asked once at the desk for an update and had been told she was still in the operation room and a note said Thesan himself would come check in when things went one way or another.  It hadn’t been reassuring and he couldn’t take Cassian’s commentary on the news playing on the television anymore.

After another hour, another face joined them and Rhys stopped himself from growling at the sight of Lucien Vanserra.

“Any news?”  Lucien asked Cassian.

“Still in the O.R. with Thesan himself,” Cassian replied.  “You made your report?”

“Just came from the station,” Lucien confirmed.  “Provided them with Amarantha’s every move that I could account for and everything she had personally done.  Gave names and dates as much as possible.  Anything to help Feyre.”

“Why take her in the first place?”  Rhys turned to Lucien.  “You were at the hotel that morning.  You took her.”

“I honestly thought she was in greater danger with you.  Amarantha promised she’d give her over to Tamlin but then she locked her away.  Tamlin just went with it.  Stayed stone faced the entire time.  I don’t know how he did it.  I thought he truly cared about her, but perhaps he was broken,” Lucien shook his head.

“Did you not notice her nail marks on the conference table or the conference room door around the lock?  Or the head sized dent in the plaster at Feyre’s height in the same conference room?  How about did you notice he broke her wrist and told her she couldn’t leave when he was killing her slowly?”  Rhys demanded.

Lucien watched him, his golden biomechanical eye widening and narrowing with a quiet whir.  Then he looked away.  “I thought, I don’t know,” Lucien’s eyes closed.  “I thought he loved her and he’d get better once Amarantha finished with what she was doing.  But Feyre left and she went to you.  You’re the terrible enemy and all I’ve ever seen is how you hurt people, how you enjoyed being with _her_.”

“He didn’t enjoy it in the least,” Cassian cut in, his hazel eyes dark.  If anyone could remember how broken Rhys had been, it was the man that had punched him out of jumping to his death.

“I know.  Feyre told me when I went to give her an antibiotic shot for the infection setting into her broken bones,” Lucien turned.  “I almost lost my other eye to her, but it would have been worth it.”

“So you decided to trust me,” Rhys murmured.  “And somehow got my phone number.”

“Feyre.  She gave it to me so I could call you in case she didn’t make it,” Lucien shifted in his seat.  “She didn’t know I was planning to contact you with hopefully enough evidence to get rid of the Red Bitch for good.”

“It was enough to get the police moving fast,” Cassian replied.

“Well, I know I’m not wanted here, but if someone could call me when she’s out.  I’d like to know one way or another,” Lucien flicked a card out.

“Are you headed back to Tamlin?”  Rhys asked.

“Unlikely.  He knows by now that I just wrecked his deal with Hybern to tear you apart,” Lucien shrugged.

“If you find yourself in need of a place, I’m sure we could find one for you.  As repayment for getting her out and trying to take care of her in there,” Rhys murmured.  He didn’t look at Lucien, but he heard him pause.  Heard the stuttered breath.  And then…

“Thank you.  I’ll consider it.”  Then Lucien was gone and Rhys was left to wait once more.

Two hours more and then Thesan finally stepped out, looking every bit as exhausted as Rhys felt.  He hadn’t changed out of his scrubs.  There was blood, Feyre’s blood on his sleeves, but Rhys pushed that thought from his mind.

“Your girl is one very lucky person, depending on how you look at it.  Normal a broken neck spells out instant death,” Thesan started.  “But it didn’t in her case.  So then we look to possible paralysis.  Somehow the spinal cord didn’t see any damage so I have hope she might be set with a little physical therapy.”

Rhys took in the information.  He hadn’t even considered that Feyre could be paralyzed from the neck down at worst if she did live.  But it seemed like that wasn’t too much of a concern.

“Why would she be considered lucky ‘depending on how we look at it’,” Cassian cut in.

“She had multiple breaks and injuries I had to address.  It’s why we had to take so long.  If she wakes and isn’t paralyzed, she will be in pain, a lot of it, for a long time.  She was malnourished in her time she was trapped, and there was a mild infection but it appears there was something worse before that.  So perhaps Amarantha didn’t want her to die of infection quickly, as horrible as it sounds.”

“So, now what?”  Rhys asked softly.  “How do we proceed from here?”

“Feyre goes into the intensive care unit for the night, at least one night, until she is fully stable.  Then she moves to a room,” Thesan explained.  “When we feel comfortable with her going home, you can take her.”

“She needs a private room.  And I don’t know if she has insurance, but I’ll pay her bills,” Rhys promised.

“She’ll have one.  She’s being treated as if she were high profile because of her connection to you,” Thesan promised.

“She is high profile.  She’s a majority shareholder of Nox Industries,” Rhys pointed out.

Thesan’s eyes went wide at that bit of news Rhys hadn’t shared with anyone beyond his inner circle.  Then he nodded.  “Of course, I’ll make sure she’s completely taken care of.”

“When can I see her?”  Rhys demanded.

“In an hour when she’s settled into a bed.  I’d suggest letting a nurse show you to an open room to steal a shower and a pair of scrubs.  It will go over better in the ICU,” Thesan promised.

“I’ll go report back to the others,” Cassian promised Rhys.  “And someone will bring an overnight bag for you.”

“My laptop too.  I believe I’ll be working from here for the foreseeable future,” Rhys turned to look at his brother who only nodded.

“If Feyre wakes when I’m not here, tell her I expect to see her at her desk soon.  The elevator has worked far too many days in a row.”  Cassian’s voice came out a bit choked and Rhys was almost surprised his brother had made the connection between Feyre and his faulty ID cards but wasn’t plotting revenge.  Rather he seemed to be upset it had stopped.

“Of course,” Rhys promised.  Then he followed Thesan to the nurses’ station and let the nurses lead him away from the waiting room.

It wasn’t until he was dressed in a full set of scrubs and shown into a private room in the ICU that Rhys really let any of the terror of the last twelve hours catch up with him.  Feyre was on the bed before him, bandaged and with wires and tubes connecting her to various machines. 

He could hear a soft beeping coming from one and looking up to see it monitoring her slow heart rate and another monitoring a steady brain activity.  When he had looked over the entire amount of damage he could see above the covers and what each monitor did, he looked to her face.  Her beautiful face that looked so dead.  Even in her sleep she had expression.  But now she was waxy where her skin wasn’t bruised, and her mouth was set into a straight line.  No hint of a smirk or a frown as he often saw in her sleep.  Nothing but the monitors to tell him she was alive.

Slowly, Rhys sank into the chair next to Feyre’s bed.  He reached for her hand, careful of the IVs in place on the back of it, and tried to give it a squeeze.  She didn’t squeeze back.  Whether it was because she was too far away in her unconscious state to register it was him holding her hand, or she couldn’t feel it at all from paralysis, he didn’t know.  But the pain that struck him deep in his heart left him sobbing against the side of the bed.  She was an artist and there was a chance she would never paint again.

Rhys woke and slept on and off against the side of Feyre’s bed, only leaving to use the restroom and to eat when the nurses gave him one too many glances that told him they were about to call someone about him.  He doubted he slept more than half an hour at a time, but he doubted it would be more than that until Feyre woke.

Mor came with his overnight bag packed far too full and his laptop so he could work from the hospital.  He gave it a valiant effort to read emails and reply and to look through reports, but his mind stayed focused on the soft beeping of the monitors, searching for any sign of change, good or bad.

The next morning, they were moved to a private room that would rival some hotel rooms.  Feyre held a larger hospital bed, proof they didn’t plan on having to move her any time soon.  It gave her space to spread out if needed.  She had a desk that could pull over her bed as a table and swivel away when unneeded.  For everyone else in the room there was a large, comfortable couch built into the wall alongside several very large windows with a cityscape view, though they were high enough up that no noise from the streets below filtered in.  A table with four chairs occupied one area of the room with a large television set to watch anything Feyre or he might desire on current television or hundreds of movies to order.  And there was a bathroom, built with a deep tub, a rain shower, and plenty of space for someone to help Feyre maneuver if she ever made it inside.

Rhys set up his work station next to Feyre in an armchair he didn’t plan on moving from the spot next to the bed.  His family made sure he was kept company as they cycled through during each day and usually brought food to make sure he didn’t starve while he barely left Feyre’s side.  Thesan stopped in often too, checking on Feyre’s bandages that were to be changed every few days and the progress of her stitches and casts.

Feyre slept for three straight days and Thesan assured him it was likely for the best.  She was sleeping through the worst of the pain.  Instead of a ten on the pain scale, she would wake and maybe feel an eight.  It didn’t sound much better but it was something.  So Rhys waited, listening and waiting for warning signs about things that didn’t seem to come.

Rhys woke in the dim lighting of the hospital room, noting that it was still late at night or far too early in the morning.  They only dimmed the lights in the room when they had deemed it time to sleep.  So he had taken up his position against the side of Feyre’s bed, his hand holding hers.  But something had woken him.  A gentle touch at the side of his hand that still rested on the bed jolted through him.  He looked down at his hand to see Feyre’s fingers no longer in his own, but alongside of his hand, twitching slightly as her arm moved a fraction of an inch at a time.  She wasn’t paralyzed in her arms, he realized.  She could move them.  She could twitch her fingers.  She would be able to paint again.

Slowly he dragged his eyes up to her face, expecting her to still be sound asleep but his violet eyes met her blue gray and wave after wave of emotion crashed over him.  Feyre was awake.  She was awake and moving her arm and her fingers.  Not much, but he didn’t expect that.  After all she had endured the Mother and the Cauldron had given him some sort of miracle in seeing her alive and relatively unharmed.

“Feyre,” he breathed out her name.  Her mouth twitched slightly at that into a shadow of the smirk he adored on her face.  “I want you to know how much I love you.  There have been so many times I’ve wanted to say it and then I almost didn’t get the chance.”  He reached for her hand once more and pressed a kiss against the back of it.

“I- lo-ve you… too,” Feyre rasped out.

“You don’t have to talk yet,” he promised.  “You’re in pain.  I’m very much aware of that.  You will be for a while.”  He stole a moment to savor as Feyre’s fingers contracted around his in a slight pressure back.  “Wiggle your fingers for me.”  She did.  “And can you do the same with your toes?”  He looked down to see the covers twitching and couldn’t help the smile that overcame his face. 

“Would you take back your declaration if I couldn’t?”  Feyre rasped out.

“No,” he promised her.  “I will always love you.  Even if you couldn’t do more than tell me off with that wicked mouth of yours.”  He earned a smirk in reply that quickly turned into a wince.  “I’ll see what we can do for the pain.”

He stood and went to find a nurse, who quickly chastised him for not being asleep when he didn’t sleep much as it was as she chased him back into the room.

“I told you Miss Archeron will wake when she wakes and you can stop bothering us,” the nurse scolded him.

“Actually,” Rhys beamed at the nurse.  “Feyre is awake and she seems to be in pain.”  He gave a pointed nod to the bed where Feyre’s eyes were trained on them, though her neck was still braced to keep it from moving.

“Oh,” the nurse gasped out.  “Oh!”  She announced after a moment.  “Miss Archeron, you’re awake.”

Rhys almost laughed but didn’t as the nurse seemed to realize she was truly awake.  Just like Rhys had asked Feyre to do, she had Feyre wiggle her fingers and then her toes.  Touched each of them and asked if the touch could be felt.  When Feyre passed every test, the nurse promised to bring something for pain.

“You haven’t been sleeping?” She murmured out to him when the nurse was gone.

“Not much,” he admitted.  “I’ve been far too worried about you.”  He took his place up in his chair and reached for her hand once more.  “I can’t wait to get you home where I can hold you all night.”

“I miss sleeping with you,” she whispered back.  “But I suppose it will be a while.”

“Soon, Darling.  Then I don’t know if I’m ever going to let you go,” he stood to press a kiss to her mouth.

“Feyre, it’s good to see you awake,” Thesan’s voice came from the door to break them apart.  “I hear you’re in some pain.”

Thesan talked Feyre and Rhys through the drug he was about to put in her IV and then happily chatted with her about the good news of her healing body while the pain medicine took effect and lulled Feyre back to sleep.

“This is only for night,” Thesan promised Rhys.  “There will be other medications that doesn’t make her sleep so easily tomorrow, though she might sleep anyway.  A healing body takes a lot of energy from a person.”

“When I take her home,” Rhys started, unsure of how to ask what he wanted.  But he figured it was best to just blurt it out and wait to be told no.  “Can she sleep in our bed again or should I have her sleep on her own?”

“Let’s see where her neck injury is before she goes and other broken bones before we talk about what restrictions we need in place,” Thesan promised.  “I was about to head home for the night.  I’ll check in tomorrow morning.”

“It is tomorrow morning,” Rhys pointed out as he saw the clock on the wall told him it was 2 AM.

“The wonders of being the CEO,” Thesan chuckled.  “My husband doesn’t necessarily enjoy that I’m here this late either.”

“Have a good night, Thesan.  And thank your husband for putting up with your hours for me.  I appreciate you being on hand for Feyre,” Rhys bowed his head.  Thesan simply gave him a smile and left.

Rhys waited a moment before he settled back into his chair, took up Feyre’s hand once more, and rested his head against the side of the bed.  He found he could breathe easier now.  Feyre had beaten all odds.  Amarantha breaking her neck hadn’t killed her instantly and hadn’t paralyzed her.  He’d be remembering that with every prayer to the Mother he would ever think of for the rest of his life.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre goes home from the hospital.

It took two weeks for Feyre to be deemed fit enough to go home.  Two weeks in which Rhys had resorted to trying to only work when Feyre was sleeping but as she healed and was awake more often than sleeping, it became difficult.  She had assured him, in the time several times over, he could go to work to get things accomplished but he refused to leave her.  During the days when it was light out, she was fine.  But when it got dark outside and in the room, there were enough times she had panicked, even in her sleep, that Thesan had provided a drug to help her sleep each night.  Not wanting to risk that anything else might set off some sort of fear without him there, he hadn’t felt comfortable leaving.

Not that she ever would have been alone.  Cassian dropped by often and Azriel almost more than that.  Mor came in often enough but was holding down what she could at work and Amren only stopped in to fully assess Feyre herself.  Once that was done, it was back to preparing her case against Amarantha.

Rhys was grateful for his brothers visiting because he did use that time to try and work while Cassian watched comedy movies with Feyre and Azriel spent much of him time with her reading the classic novels he loved so much out loud to her.  He promised to get her all of the books on audio for her to listen to herself.

But after two weeks and the miracles of Dawn Medicals’ top rated research into drugs and therapy, Feyre was able to go home with relatively little pain.  She still had healing broken bones and her neck fracture would still take another four weeks to heal completely, but Thesan’s people were geniuses. 

On the last afternoon there, Feyre was fitted for her neck brace and an actual hard cast for her right arm and for her right leg.  Rhys imagined them all to be clunky and oversized but Thesan had simply laughed.  Apparently large clunky neck braces and casts were things of the past as he strapped Feyre into a nearly invisible neck brace and equally slimmed down and almost invisible casts on her arm and leg. 

“If you two decide to share a bed,” Thesan warned them.  “You stay on her left side,” he warned Rhys.  “And keep certain physical activities to a minimum until your neck is cleared.”  He warned Feyre.  “You got incredibly lucky.  The odds of survival at all were so minuscule that your case might be cited in textbooks as a miracle, especially because you have no trace of paralysis.  Even if he just touches you or uses his mouth, an orgasm will cause your body to react and you won’t have control.  Your leg and arm I’m less worried about, but your neck… protect that.” 

Thesan left after explaining the regimen of medications for Feyre and what foods would best help her build her bones and strength back up.  Then Feyre was free to go and Rhys happily wheeled her out the main lobby.

He settled her into the passenger seat of his car and went to the driver’s side.  Only after he buckled in did he realize Feyre was absolutely silent.  Her eyes were closed and she was trying to breathe in the counts Thesan had taught her for panics.

“What if I roll down the windows?”  Rhys asked softly.  “Will that help?”

Feyre’s eyes snapped open and she looked slightly ashamed but nodded.  He rolled down the windows and opened the sunroof to give her as much openness as possible before he backed them out of the parking spot and started them towards home.  When he was finally on the main roads, he took her hand and held it while telling her all about the dinner he had planned for the two of them, hoping it gave her something to hold onto while they were in such a small space.

He did have dinner plans for them.  Special ones that involved Cassian cooking and a little romance with candles and soft lighting, classical music playing over the sound system in the house, and then some romantic movie to get her all cuddled up against him on the couch.  He heard her hum her approval but her eyes still didn’t open until the car had stopped and he had all but run to get her door open for her.

“Is it okay that I rest a bit before this amazing dinner?”  She asked when he got her inside.

“Of course,” he promised her.  He made to lift her up but she stopped him.

“Go ahead and get started on whatever you need to.  I can get myself up the stairs,” she told him, stopping to press a kiss to his shoulder.

Rhys watched her start up the stairs for all of a few moments to make sure she could indeed get herself up and then went to the kitchen to call Cassian and touch base with him. 

He had planned the dinner well in advance but he didn’t expect Cassian to know what was or wasn’t already in his kitchen.  Hell, Rhys hardly knew what food was in his kitchen most days and even more so since he hadn’t been home.  It was only thanks to Nuala and Cerridwen that the kitchen stayed stocked at all.  They had even gone as far to learn Feyre’s favorites and had started shopping for her as well before Feyre had disappeared.  They had even kept the house spotless since he had practically lived at the hospital.  He needed to give them both raises for their hard work.

Once Cassian was updated on the status of dinner, Rhys gathered up a cup of tea for Feyre and one for himself and wandered up to her room.  He opened the door to the pristine room, only to find the bed empty and the bathroom door wide open and darkness beyond.  Feyre wasn’t in her room.  Feeling a slight panic, Rhys turned and went down the hall to go up to the third floor, but paused at his open door.  Feyre was there, her clothes shed on the floor and her body a solid lump under the covers on his bed… their bed.

“Rhys?”  Feyre’s voice reached him.

“Yes, Darling?”  He stepped into the room.

“Is this okay?”  She asked and it took him a moment to realize she was asking about her being in the bed.  “Or would you prefer I go back to my room.  I can.  It’s just…” her voice trailed off.

“Either we will stay in here together or we will stay in your room together.  I don’t care which, but I refuse to sleep without you ever again,” Rhys set down the tea next to her.  “I brought you tea.”

“Thank you,” she shifted until she could sit up and it killed him not to help her sit up to protect her from injuring herself further.  But he let her have her independence.  She would ask if she needed help.  “Perhaps we should move my dresser in here then.  If we’re going to share a room from now on.”

“There’s plenty of space in the closet,” he replied.  He walked over to the door of his closet and opened it to reveal his clothing.  “I just need to move some things around.”

“I’m surprised there’s space at all.  You hardly wear the same thing twice,” she snorted into her tea.

“When you’re all healed, Feyre Darling, I’ll wear you around my neck like a tie so often you’ll lose count.  And then you’ll forget that little quip,” he turned to look back at her and saw the smirk form on her face.  That same smirk that always told him she had a line up her sleeve and he simply had to wait for the idea to fully form.

“I don’t know if I’d match your all black collection of ties,” she replied finally.

“Ah, but see I’m branching out in my colors because some lovely woman told me to,” he turned to crawl onto the bed next to her.  “And I think you are my favorite color.”

“I think, when I am all healed up, I’d like to paint you,” she replied.

He felt his heart race at the declaration.  Feyre wanted to take time to use her talent on him.  She wanted to paint him, which he knew she was very private and shy about her painting.  And after everything she had been through, she still wanted to paint.  When he had been through Amarantha’s clutches, he hadn’t been able to even want to have fun or take part in anything he had enjoyed before.  She was a marvel.  A strong, amazing, miracle of a woman he didn’t deserve.  But he didn’t say any of that.  Instead he opened his mouth and replied with the first smart ass comment that came to his mind.

“Nude would be best.”

They lounged in bed together for hours until he heard Cassian call up from the kitchen that they had better be decent.  They weren’t, but Rhys simply laughed it off as Feyre tried to quickly get dressed.

“Take your time,” he assured her and pulled on a pair of lounge pants and wandered as far as the steps to see Cassian in an apron glaring up at him, hands on his hips like a frustrated mother hen.

“Can’t you keep your clothes on for five damned minutes?  She is supposed to be healing up.”  The stern face stayed for all of a moment before he broke into a toothy grin.  “Do you still want dinner or are you two going to stay up there all night?”

“We’re coming, give us a moment,” Rhys chuckled.  “Thank you, again.”

“You know I couldn’t let you cook for her.  You’d send her back to the hospital with food poisoning,” Cassian taunted and turned to walk back down the hall to the kitchen. 

Rhys returned to their room, disappointed to see Feyre already in an oversized t-shirt that he suspected was stolen from his drawers and a pair of fluffy pajama pants.  He found a shirt and heard Feyre let out a soft sigh as he pulled it on over his head.  It made him smile to hear she might be just as disappointed with him covering up as he was by her covering up.  Then he helped her to her feet and stayed with her as she set the pace towards the stairs.

The stairs were difficult for her to negotiate but she managed with only an extra hand from him on two of the steps.  Then she made her way to the kitchen where Rhys was surprised to see Azriel also assisting in the cooking.  Mor stood on the other side of the island filling a platter from a bakery box.  And Amren was already nursing a glass of wine, not taking part in any of the preparations.  Rhys didn’t expect her to and it seemed Feyre didn’t question any of it either as she moved to steal the stool next to Amren.

“You get to open the wine,” Mor told Rhys as he rounded on her. 

“Isn’t it already open?”  He nodded to the glass Amren had.

“That was the bottle Cassian opened to cook with and Amren and Mor finished off,” Azriel explained.  “And before you complain about it, we know Feyre shouldn’t have alcohol so we got her something special.”  He nodded to the fridge.

Rhys followed the direction and opened the fridge to find a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling wine keeping cold in the door of the refrigerator.  He opened that, poured Feyre a glass, and then went to his liquor cabinet to locate another two bottles of red wine.  It was unlikely he or Cassian would actually drink the wine.  Amren and Mor would steal it all after Azriel somehow charmed a glass out of them.  He and Cassian would resort to the other liquor that Mor didn’t like and Amren scoffed at as barbaric.

While he hadn’t intended for dinner to be a family affair, the amount of food suggested they were sticking around and he couldn’t bring himself to be upset.  Feyre was happily chatting with Amren about the ruby necklace she was wearing which seemed to tell him she didn’t mind the extra company either.

It occurred to him, as they made their way to the dining room that Feyre had never had a family dinner with them, not really.  He used to host them most weekends but since Feyre had moved in, his family had stopped coming around to allow them time to settle in.  Then Feyre had been taken, and there was the time in the hospital.  She hadn’t really had a chance to see them in this light.  He hadn’t had a chance to see how well she fit in with the dynamics of his family as a whole.  Not that he doubted she would fit easily, but seeing how she and Mor stole sweets together, how she discussed fine arts and jewelry with Amren, discussed books with Azriel, and joked with Cassian easily through dinner settled something deep inside of him he wasn’t aware of.

Instead of retreating to the living room after dinner as he had originally planned.  Cassian broke out the board games that would get vastly inappropriate quickly with his family and the table was cleared of all but the dessert platter and their drinks.  Rhys was almost surprised that Feyre didn’t know most of the games but he thought back to what he did know of her childhood.  Her sisters never would have taught her games they likely had learned if they even had them around the house.  After explaining the rules of each game to Feyre, Cassian let Feyre pick through them until they settled on one. 

At the end of the night as everyone was leaving Cassian retreated to the kitchen to start cleaning and Rhys followed.  Azriel seemed to have Feyre’s undivided attention, no doubt talking about some book he wanted her to listen to while she was recovering, so it seemed like a decent time to leave her be.

“You know, I have to hand it to you Rhys,” Cassian told him as they stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink.

“Oh?”  He looked to his brother to see him serious for once.

“I always wondered how things would change when we started bringing significant others around.  I honestly thought it would be like losing each other a bit.  Spend less time around each other and eventually it’s just holidays we sit and do things like this.  I thought Feyre would be the start of it.  You’re so set on her, it’s like she’s already your wife.  But, it doesn’t feel like I’m losing you with Feyre.  I feel like I’m gaining a sister and not losing anything at all.  I can only hope the same for anyone that joins us in the future.”

Rhys stared at his brother.  It was nice to hear him serious for once and even more so, in such a good way.  Yes, the group dynamics would change with new additions and certainly his time would be more divided, but it was nice to hear Cassian at least didn’t feel like it was a bad change. 

“I do intend to keep her,” Rhys admitted.  “So I’m glad you like her.”

“Like her?  Rhys if you two break up, we are keeping her and getting rid of you!”  Cassian chuckled.  Rhys joined him in laughing, fully aware it was likely honest.  He loved that his family loved her.  “You’re coming back to work next week, right?”

“I was thinking of working from my home office for a while until she’s settled,” Rhys admitted.

“She will be safe here,” Cassian assured him.  “And occupied.”

“I don’t want her to need help and not be able to get it,” Rhys admitted.

“And you’d drop an important conference call if she gets herself stuck on the stairs,” Cassian chuckled.  “We need you back at work.”

“Are things getting that chaotic?”  Rhys asked.

“Hybern is still a thorn in our side.  The threats to the Velaris businesses are continuing.  And the Board is becoming unruly.  Mor won’t say anything since she started sitting in on their meetings, but I’ve had to go with her to the meetings just to maintain order.  Az has been running damage control with the Velaris businesses on top of trying to keep up on Hybern.  And Amren is swamped with the Amarantha stuff, and keeping up with the Board, and trying to keep Hybern under legal terms.”  Cassian shook his head.  “Sometimes it’s hard to appreciate everything you are doing until we have to take part of the load.  Not that you shouldn’t have been with Feyre in the hospital, but I think she’s in a good place now.  Maybe work partial days or partial weeks at the office, but please come back.”

Rhys bowed his head and nodded.  His family needed him too and his company.  He couldn’t just abandon them though he could barely stand to leave Feyre a room away from him while she was so injured.  But Nuala and Cerridwen would be around and he’d make sure she could call him whenever she needed help. 

“I’ll talk things over with Feyre.  I’m sure she’ll side with you, but I’d like her to tell me how much she needs from me until she’s more fully healed,” he told his brother.  Cassian nodded.

“I’ll finish up the dishes since I’m the one that made so many of them.  I’d expected one of us to stop by tomorrow.  We have yet to decide which, but someone will stop by and make sure you two are still okay.”  Cassian shooed him from the kitchen just in time for him to catch Azriel’s quiet voice carrying back from the dining room.

“It’s designed for people in your situation.  Video lectures, recordings of the articles and books you need to read, and if that all doesn’t work, I’ll help you,” Azriel was speaking to Feyre.

“Why do this for me?”  Feyre asked, her voice equally as soft.

“I remember what it was like to be denied an education.  My family didn’t let me attend school.  I wasn’t allowed out more than an hour a week to see the sun.  I was twelve when Rhys’ mom took me in and taught me how to read, write, and set the rest of my education.  She saw what I could do and gave me the tools to do it.  She did the same for Cassian but he was younger when she did it for him.  So now I’m going to do the same for you.  This will get you your high school GED.  Then we can look at college programs.”

Rhys felt his heart drop into his stomach.  He knew, had known, that his mother had spent hours tutoring Cassian and Azriel each night when she had taken them in.  Illyrians weren’t much on educating everyone.  It tended to be a family affair which was why his mother made a point to be in his education even with his father sending him to the best schools in Prythian.  He had known in his mind and heart that neither Cassian nor Azriel had had any sort of education before that point.  He had never mocked them for not knowing their letters or numbers because he had been raised to understand his privileges, but it was one thing to know and another to hear how it had deeply affected them.  Possibly Azriel more so than Cassian simply because so much had been denied to him.  Cassian basked in the family he felt had been denied to him; Azriel basked in his intelligence that had been stoked into genius levels by the drive to pursue what he never had been able to before.

And now he was giving that to Feyre.  She could read.  She could write.  She could do so many things.  But a formal education would benefit her as far as getting her into a college.  Then she could decide which interests she wanted to pursue.  He could see her following her arts into some sort of degree just like he could see her pursing business degrees with how easily she grasped the concepts once they were explained to her.

“You’ll have some time while you recover to get started and you know how to get a hold of me if you have questions,” Azriel told Feyre.  “The laptop is yours to keep.  And if you go here to this program here, I’ve pre-downloaded all of the books I think you’ll like on audio.”

“Az,” Feyre’s voice sounded thick with emotion and Rhys stopped himself from running in to protect her.  Neither of them needed him to ruin this moment.  “Thank you.  I don’t think I can really accept this though.”

“You can,” Azriel assured her.  “You’ll use it for work too, I’m sure.  So think of it as necessarily work equipment.  All of it.”

Chairs scraped back and Rhys waited another moment before he glanced around the doorway to see Feyre hugging Azriel tight.  He stepped back and waited until Azriel came around the corner.  His brother likely knew he had been listening but he said nothing about it.

“Thank you for coming over for dinner,” Rhys told him as they walked towards the door.  “We should start having our weekly family dinners again.”

“We should,” Azriel agreed.  “We’ll plan for next Saturday?”

“Yes,” Rhys nodded and gripped his brother’s arm for a moment.  “Saturday would be great.”

“I’ll get the word out.  You might need more wine this time,” Azriel grinned at him and left.

“Weekly dinners, huh?”  Feyre asked when Azriel was gone and it was just them in the dining room and Cassian back in the kitchen, possibly listening in.

“Is that alright?”  He moved to take her in his arms, wanting to have every chance to hold her he could.

“I’d be surprised if it really was just once a week,” Feyre giggled.  “I’m shocked Mor doesn’t raid your wine daily.”

“Before you came along, there was always someone in the house eating my food or drinking my liquor,” Rhys informed her.

“Or taking advantage of the cable he pays for but doesn’t watch.  Someone needs to make sure the television and couch are loved too,” Cassian called from the kitchen.

“What changed when I came along?”  Feyre called back.

“A chance we’d see Rhys naked!”  Was the only reply.  Feyre laughed softly at that and leaned in closer to Rhys.

“I never thought I’d be part of something like this,” Feyre admitted after a moment.

“Like what?”

“A family.  A real family.  So thank you for giving that to me,” she murmured.

“I’m glad you’re happy.  I’m glad you want to be a part of this family,” he responded just as softly.  He was beyond thankful for his family, even more thankful that the Mother had led him to Feyre.  He could say a thousand different things to be witty or to tell her how he truly felt but all he truly wanted to do was get her back in the bed so he could wrap around her once more.  “Can we go back upstairs?  I’ve missed holding you and all I want to do is sleep next to you again.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre gets an art studio

In the four weeks it took for Feyre to heal completely and to be cleared by Thesan to return to work, Rhys found himself spending increasingly larger amounts of time at his office.  He had discussed it with Feyre and she had been very sure she would be fine home by herself or even with Nuala and Cerridwen for him to work full days at the office from the beginning.  But he hadn’t been able to stay away that long.

The first week he had worked half days, going in late and leaving before the end of the day.  It had taken him the whole week to get a grasp on the full situation and he had realized Cassian had been right.  It had led him to working two full days and three half days for the second week, and four full days and one half day on the third week.  The fourth week he had spent his normal scheduled time in the office but had made a point not to get stuck working late.

Feyre had been quite content to stay home without him.  She had made fast friends with Nuala and Cerridwen who kept close eyes on her while she worked through the classes Azriel had set her up with.  Some nights Rhys had come home to Feyre on the phone with Azriel asking him questions about assignments she needed help with.  Some nights she had even let him help when she had gotten too frustrated. 

But Azriel was right about Feyre getting her education.  It wasn’t much to get her GED figured out, but it empowered her.  And some nights he came home to her reading work reports on her computer or on his when she had gotten better with the stairs.  It had given him quite a bit to consider.

On the Friday Feyre finally was able to remove her braces and was given the all clear to return to work, Rhys had found her in the kitchen slowly sketching out a design on a rather large piece of canvas.

“I hope it’s okay,” she turned to look at him when he made his presence known.  “I had a driver take me to the art store and I thought this might be the best place to work.”

“Would you like a studio?”  He asked.  “Do you want a place you can work in that is all yours?”

“It would be nice,” she admitted.  “But I really don’t want to be a bother.”

“You are hardly a bother,” he snorted and bent to press a kiss to her neck.  He marveled at the feel of it under his lips after only touching the hard brace for the last four weeks.  He hadn’t believed that would be something he missed so much, to be able to kiss her neck, to see her neck with her hair pulled back.  “The room on the third floor near my office is open.  There’s no bed in it and it would be quite easy to set you up in there.”

“The room is carpeted though.  I wouldn’t want to stain anything with paint,” she told him after a moment.  He grinned as he nuzzled her shoulder.  He hadn’t shown her that room at all because it was empty, but he didn’t doubt she had poked around.  After four weeks bound to the townhouse by injuries, he had no doubt she had looked into every room to see what was there.

“We can tear up the carpet and put in something else, hardwood or tile.  Whatever you prefer.  Or we can get rugs if you don’t wish to wait that long.”  He stared down at the small drawing she had been copying onto the canvas.  It was monochromatic, colored in with just a pencil.  It showed an abstract mountain with various lines giving it depth and texture.  Above the mountain peak sat three bright stars.  The background was colored in dark while the mountain and stars were left white.  It was simple and yet, it called to him.  “Whenever you are ready we can go and see what you’d like to do to the space.”

“What do you mean ‘do to the space’?”  She asked, twisting around in her chair,

“I mean paint the walls, change out the flooring, add furniture,” he explained.

“I couldn’t do that, it’s your house,” she turned to look at him. 

“And you live here.  I’d rather you make yourself at home.”  He waited for her agreement.  Instead she turned to look up at him.

“Shouldn’t I start looking for my own place?  Cauldron knows you pay me enough to do so and I’ve intruded on your hospitality for quite some time,” she asked.

“I don’t see why you should leave.  Most couples work towards moving in together.  We just made it happen a little sooner,” he pulled her into his arms.  “Unless you’d like to find a place together that you had some decision in.”  He paused for a moment, considering.  “Or if you like the location of this place, we can always redecorate to accommodate both our styles.  I probably need new carpets anyway, the paint could be changed out, do whatever you want with the kitchen but I’d run it by Nuala and Cerridwen, and possibly Cassian,” he stopped when she kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I like how this place looks; we don’t need to redecorate,” she rose up on her toes to kiss him again.  “Let’s go take a look at that room.”

It took less than an hour to convince Feyre that it was perfectly fine to want the carpet gone from the room and even less time to convince her she could paint the walls, and it didn’t just have to be a solid color.  She could paint murals if she wanted.  It had her mind spinning in ways he liked.

“We should go tonight to order flooring,” Rhys told her.

“Tonight?”  She turned to look at him and he only smiled at her.

“You’ve been cooped up here for four weeks.  I’m sure you’d like to get out more than going to the art supply store,” he reasoned.  She grinned up at him once more.  “And then you can actually look at flooring and decide what you want to do.”

They measured the room for reference and then Rhys drove Feyre to find flooring she liked.  When everything was ordered and Rhys had called Cassian and Azriel to ask them for their help over the weekend, they drove to her art supply store to buy proper easels, and far more supplies than he was sure she had ever bought for herself before.

“What am I going to do with all of this?”  Feyre demanded as he followed behind her and added five more of everything she picked up into the cart.

“There’s a closet in the room.  It will be storage for all of your supplies,” he smiled at her.  “You’re a great artist, Feyre.  I’d hope you’d use that skill even if it’s just to amuse yourself.”  He kissed her nose when she wrinkled it at him.  “And then we can get dinner and head home and start ripping up your carpet.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that was a crude attempt at sexual innuendo,” Feyre murmured.

“It can have a double meaning if you want,” he teased.  “But I was thinking of letting you have a night to settle in before I attack you.”

“Oh really?  I’m surprised,” she laughed.

“Why?  I can have restraint!”  He touched his chest in mock hurt.

“I heard you moaning in your sleep last night, it accompanied some very suggestive movements and a certain something standing at attention,” she replied.  He searched her face for any trace of a joke but didn’t find anything more than her normal amusement at being able to tease him.  She wasn’t making it up.

“How often has that happened?”  He asked, swallowing hard.  He remembered those dreams enough to know they had been vivid, about Feyre, and he had been completely certain they had stayed just dreams as the boxers he wore to bed were clean still when he woke.

“Every few nights or so,” she replied, turning back to look between two different shades of red.

“I haven’t hurt you, have I?”  He asked, horrified.  He had been so careful.  He had been careful of her injuries to the point he had restrained himself even in kissing her.

“No, Rhys, you have not.  I didn’t even bother waking you.  That should say something,” she glanced back at him.  “If it truly bothered me, I would have woken you and made you face away.”  She glanced back once more, “and they sounded like such good dreams, I was a little jealous of dream me.  Or I hope it was dream me.”

“As if I could dream of anyone else,” he assured her.  “Perhaps we should get dinner to go and I could show you exactly what those dreams were about.”

His mind was filled with every highly indecent thought possible as she swished her hips in front of him and bent over to pick up something low on a self.  He didn’t even pay half a thought to what she was putting in the cart as they walked to the front and he mindlessly paid for everything, only stopping to grab a business card for the store to later set up a charge account or buy the place through Velaris.  The rational part of his mind was still somewhat functioning.  He had noted on the way in that it was a small business, not some chain store.  He would look into them at another time and see what they were about, though he doubted Feyre would support any business that wasn’t worth his time.

They did stop for dinner, just long enough to pick up two large pizzas.  They had gotten home, unloaded the car, eaten with Feyre sitting on his lap, and then he hadn’t waited for getting her upstairs.  He had laid her out on the dining table, after making sure the shades had been drawn, and had taken as much ‘dessert’ as he had wanted.

In the morning he had regretted his lack of restraint almost instantly as Feyre let out a soft cry of pain the moment she had moved.  Her hand had gone straight to her neck to rub at the pain.  He hadn’t even given a thought to his own nudity as he had wrenched open the bedroom door to run down to the kitchen.  Somewhere he had registered two pairs of hazel eyes going wide at the sight of him rummaging in the freezer but he hadn’t paid much attention as he had turned to run the ice pack back up to Feyre.  She was still hissing in pain as she rubbed at a knot but let out a soft moan when he set the ice pack right on the spot.

“Thank you,” she whispered when he held it in place.  “Do I smell bacon?”

“I assume Cassian,” Rhys murmured, trying to calm his racing heart.  He had hurt Feyre.

“And you ran down there naked,” she laughed after a moment.  “Cassian must be scandalized.  I hope he doesn’t burn breakfast because he’s trying to wash his eyes.”

“I hope that’s not a comment on how you feel how I look without clothes,” he teased back.  “Though given how much you enjoy staring at me, I’m going to go with you are teasing.”

“Well, my sisters might be pretty, but I don’t want to see them naked.  I’m sure your brothers feel the same.  I mean, do you want to see Cassian naked?”  She turned her eyes on him.

“I have seen Cassian naked more times than I can count.  The image is burned into my mind forever,” he nuzzled in against her cheek.  “I’m sorry, Darling.”

“It’s a cramp, or a knot.  That isn’t your fault,” she countered.  “It’s bound to happen until my body gets used to not having a brace on all the time.  Thesan told me it was normal.” 

“I pushed you too hard last night,” he pressed.

“No,” she assured him.  “It’s just a cramp.  We should get up.  We asked Cassian and Azriel to come help, so we should at least get up.”

“Rest a moment longer,” he begged.  But Feyre was stubborn and wiggled out of his hold.  She went into the closet to pull on a long t-shirt and a pair of leggings and then into the bathroom to fix her hair.  Rhys got up to follow only because he didn’t want her out of his sight.

“Are you decent this time?”  Cassian demanded, his eyes dutifully on the pan in front of him while Azriel buried his face in the newspaper as they came into the kitchen.

“No,” Feyre teased and took up a stool.  Rhys followed behind her with the ice pack and replaced it gently over the place she had been massaging.  He saw Cassian and Azriel very slowly peek over.  He wasn’t sure if they were checking if it was safe or trying to steal a glance at a supposedly indecent Feyre.  “I, for one, am never decent,” she declared as she saw them looking.

“Can I talk you into not helping today?”  He twisted her stool to look her in the eye.  Perhaps there was a chance she’d listen to his pleading if she could see what it meant to him.  “Please.”

“It’s a knot, Rhys.  I’m not going to rebreak my neck because of sex or because we’re doing some renovating upstairs.  I’m fine and you’re over reacting.”  She twisted back in her stool and adjusted the ice pack.

“If I had a choice, Feyre, I’d pick anything else than trying to renovate a room with these two,” Azriel murmured with a glance to Rhys.  “These two can’t agree on what’s right.  They’ll argue all day about who knows the best way to do something and then while they are pouting I just fix it.”  Rhys was about to protest but it was an accurate statement and he knew Azriel was trying to help him discourage Feyre from doing anything too hard.

“Rhys just refuses to admit I might know what I’m doing, especially in laying tile.  Him and his pretty rich boy hands rarely see real work,” Cassian snorted.  “If he can’t intimidate the tile into place, then he doesn’t know what to do.”

“And if Cassian can’t use brute force, it’s apparently not being done right,” Rhys shot back.

“I see your point,” Feyre sighed to Azriel.  “You’ll come let me know if you need me to get them in line?”

“You have my word,” Azriel assured her.  “And I’m thinking I’d like to see what progress you make on that,” he nodded to the canvas he had likely moved off of the kitchen island when Cassian started cooking.

They ate together at the kitchen island, omelets thanks to Cassian’s skills and then Rhys led his brothers to the boxes he hadn’t unloaded from his car the night before, tiling designed to look like wood.  The sales associate had assured Feyre it would be the better option to keep staining hard wood to a minimum and still look beautiful and homey.  The choice had required him to need to buy some different sub flooring materials but it would be worth it.  If he could get Feyre to claim some space as her own, then perhaps she’d never question leaving again unless they had to.

“You seemed a little panicked this morning, Brother,” Cassian teased as they set about tearing up the carpet he hadn’t gotten to at all the night before.  “Work her too hard on her first day free from braces and casts?”

“You want details?”  Rhys asked.  They had once shared details of their love lives but after Amarantha, Rhys had stopped taking part and his brothers hadn’t asked for any details involving Feyre.

“No, Cauldron, no!”  Cassian turned back to the carpet.  “I regret opening my mouth.”

“There’s a first,” Azriel chuckled.  “Not that Feyre isn’t an attractive woman but she’s practically our sister now.  I don’t ever want to hear about your sex life.”

Rhys laughed, feeling the tension that had gathered in his shoulders that morning loosen.  He relaxed knowing Feyre had been setting up to paint in the kitchen and that his brothers would help him get the work done.

They worked through the better part of the morning prepping the floor and laying down cement board.  They only stopped for lunch which Feyre had taken the liberty of ordering and having delivered just before they even thought about it.  Then they returned to laying tile.  Surprisingly, things moved along nicely and soon the entire floor was covered in a solid layer of tile that looked like a rich, dark hardwood.

“Now Feyre just needs to decide what she’s doing with the walls and I think she’s all set for now, until she decides she wants to change something else,” Rhys admitted when they finally stepped back and saw the entire floor fully laid out.

“She has great taste,” Cassian admitted.  “I might put this tile in my kitchen.”

“Of course she has great taste.  She’s dating me,” Rhys scoffed.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Azriel moved to close the door most of the way.  “Feyre intends to return to work on Monday, yes?”

“That’s her plan currently,” Rhys looked to his brother.

“When are you planning to tell her you hired Lucien Vanserra as your personal assistant and that she’s currently displaced?”  Azriel pressed.

“She’s not completely displaced,” Rhys shot back.  “And I was planning on talking to her last night over dinner but we got side tracked by this project.”  He rubbed his face.  He had meant to sit Feyre down and talk about her position at the company. 

Originally it had been a temporary solution to Feyre being gone and him still needing assistance but Lucien had been working for him the last two weeks and had been doing a fantastic job.  He couldn’t think of where he could possibly send Lucien elsewhere in the company but he could imagine where he would set Feyre.  Getting her GED was a start and if she took some business classes she’d be set, but all she required was a little direction and she’d do well wherever he put her.

“I’ll talk to her tonight after our family dinner.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys tells Feyre about Lucien

It was Sunday before Rhys even had an opportunity to bring up what had actually been happening at work.  The night before he had been unable to get Feyre alone until very late and by then she was too tired to hold any sort of serious conversation.  And he had to admit, he didn’t want to anger her before bed if she did get angry about it.  He didn’t want to argue late into the night and he didn’t want her to sleep apart from him.  It was a bit selfish but he also justified that she would need her rest so he was truly doing her a favor.

In the morning he had intended to wake up early to go buy some fresh coffee cake and bring home some special coffee to start buttering her up, but Feyre was awake before he had even thought to get up and she was already in the kitchen eating a cold piece of pizza when he did locate her.

“Working on classes?”  Rhys asked when he saw her laptop open.

“Reading through your schedule for the week,” she replied.  “I didn’t want to come in tomorrow and be so lost that I missed something important, like an 8 AM meeting with some important executive.”  She pointed to the schedule that she clearly still had access to.

Rhys sighed wishing that he had at least had his coffee before starting this conversation but if Feyre wanted to bring things up this early, then he had to also be prepared.  He rubbed at his face while he thoughts about how to approach the subject.

“What’s wrong?  Not looking forward to the meeting?”  Feyre asked.  “It can’t be that bad, can it?”  Her blue-gray eyes were trained on him and he knew she was well too aware of his moods to even give him much of a moment to figure out how he wanted to say it.  But it seemed like he had to do it directly.

“Feyre, Darling, I need you to hear me out before you get mad,” he started and instantly saw her eyes narrow.

“I’m not taking another week off.  I’m fine,” she snapped immediately.  Alright, this wasn’t going to go well.

“I’m not asking you to take another week off,” he shifted and then went to stand in front of her.  “I needed help while you were healing up.  You know I’ve come to value everything you do and with splitting my time between work and being here with you, and with everything going on I couldn’t sacrifice that extra help.”  He watched her eyes narrow further.  “So I hired someone to take the place of my personal assistant while you were gone.”

“Who is she?”  Feyre almost growled out and Rhys laughed.  Feyre was jealous.  He hadn’t expected that but he did understand.  As Tamlin’s personal assistant she had become his sex toy.  As Rhys’ she had become his girlfriend.  He knew if she stopped to truly think about it, she would know he wouldn’t have an attraction to just anyone but he had hired her based on his attraction to her.  Perhaps she thought he had done it again.

“He,” Rhys emphasized the gender, “is someone you know.  I’m hoping you can forgive me for it but I hired Lucien Vanserra when he came looking for somewhere else to call home after Tamlin went under scrutiny for his role with what happened to you.”  He waited, expecting a slap or anything.  Lucien had helped abduct her and as far as he knew, they hadn’t spoken since Lucien had been the one to give the evidence needed to save her.

“Oh,” Feyre breathed out after a moment.  “So, I’m fired then?”  He saw the hurt flash across her face as she looked down at her lap and immediately moved to cup her cheeks to make her face him again.

“I have much bigger things planned for you than you staying my assistant for the rest of your days,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“So what happens when I get to work tomorrow?”  She asked finally.

“You come to my office, and we have a full meeting about what I expect from you in the future at work,” he bent to kiss her nose.

“What about your meeting at 8?”  She asked.

“You are my meeting at 8,” he started to kiss her cheek and then trail to her ear where he knew she loved attention.

“The meeting note says something about a Velaris Incorporated executive,” Feyre prompted, her breath becoming somewhat labored.

“Do you have an objection to becoming the main person in charge of Velaris?”  He started to nibble on the point of her ear and moved down slowly to the lobe in a way that made her arch her back.

“Doesn’t that position traditionally go to your wife?”  She asked.  “It was your mother’s and then your grandmother’s before that.”

“Do you want me to deny what you are to me, Feyre?”  He moved to the place behind her ear that had her chest pressing against his stomach.  “I’d go out and buy you a ring right now if I didn’t think I was pushing my luck.”

“You’re a shameless prick for using seduction to avoid the fact you hid this from me for weeks,” she breathed out.

“I don’t believe I’ve hidden how I feel about you, Darling,” he pulled back to look at her.

“I’m talking about Lucien and giving my job away,” she raised an eyebrow at him.  “I’ll be in my studio getting it set up.  We can discuss the details of my new position tomorrow morning, Mr. Nox.”  Her voice had dropped down to the very seductive tones he loved hearing out of her.  She paused in her walking away and glanced back at him in a way that made him believe he should start thinking about losing his clothes and how to best remove hers quickly.  She made for the fridge and took out a bottle of water.  Then she turned and gave him a little quirked smile.  “And about that ring,” he froze at the words.  She was about to crush him for admitting he wanted to marry her.  “I don’t like diamonds.”  Then she was out the door headed for the stairs.

Rhys sat stunned in the kitchen long after Feyre had completely retreated upstairs.  He had to have dreamed up that Feyre had just accepted he planned to buy her a ring.  He had to have dreamed it up that Feyre had given him a preference in the matter as if she had possibly thought about it.  He was insane for wanting to marry her so quickly, he knew that.  But it had never been a possibility in his mind that she might feel the same so soon as well.

Eventually, Rhys pulled himself from his stupor and took a page from Feyre’s book by raiding the left-over pizza and took a cup of coffee up to his office.  Feyre’s studio door was wide open and he could hear her moving belongings around.  Part of dinner the night before had been Mor and Amren insisting they help to and they had helped carry supplies up and had teamed up with Feyre to set up the drafting table and easel that he been bought for Feyre.  Copious amounts of wine had been involved but Azriel had checked it out before he had left and had declared both to be properly assembled though he wasn’t sure how.

He paused at his doorway listening to her.  There was a chance, a good chance, she was mad about everything and she was keeping away from him for the day because she was mad.  It wasn’t like he was banned from her studio but he didn’t want to enter her space without her permission either.  He had given it to her, he wasn’t going to intrude.  If she was mad, there was a chance it was in his best interest to give her some space, so he went into his office but left the door wide open.  She likely already knew he was up in the room next to his.

His intentions in his office were to start typing up his proposal to Feyre to explain her position but also the benefits and pay she would receive.  But his mind kept going back to that moment in the kitchen when she had said she didn’t want a diamond, and slowly his word processor became jewelry websites where he started to browse styles that might be of interest to him.

Somewhere along the way he sent a message to Mor asking for opinions and had received back a very clear reminder that he already had a ring that would likely be perfect.  He had inherited his mother’s jewelry along with everything else his family had owed.  It all sat at his family’s estate well outside the main city, but he rarely visited it.  Servants kept it running if he ever had half a mind to go there and it was where everyone thought he actually lived, but he hadn’t been able to live there since his family had passed away.  Not only was the place far too big and lonely for one person, it was also filled with the reminders of his mother, father, and sister wherever he looked.

 _I’ll fetch the jewelry box for you so you can look,_ was Mor’s reply when he had expressed his dislike of the idea of digging through his mother’s room for the ring despite the idea resonating deep inside of him.  His mother would have wanted him to pass on her ring if it hadn’t gone to his sister.

“Rhys?”  Feyre’s voice came from the door and he blinked at his screen and closed down the browser before turning to face her.  She looked utterly beautiful with paint dotting her hair, t-shirt, and leggings.  “Are you hungry?  I was thinking about lunch.”

“How about Sevinda’s?”  He pushed back his chair fully hoping this was a true sign she wasn’t mad at him.

“I’m not really okay to go out,” she waved at her appearance and Rhys scoffed.  “I’m a little dirty.”

“My Darling, you could be wearing only paint and you’d still be fit to go out,” he moved to take her in his arms and kissed her fully.  She hesitated and he knew, absolutely knew she was still upset with him based on that alone.  “You know my hiring of a new assistant does not mean that I am replacing you at all, right?”

“He can do more for you.  He has a better education and knows a lot,” she murmured, her cheeks staining red.  “And he’s attractive.”

“Look at me,” Rhys instructed, noting her eyes were drifting to the floor.  She didn’t oblige so he pressed a hand under her chin to tilt her face upwards.  “You did more for me than I ever expected as my assistant.  You raised my expectations further than I ever dreamed for the position.  You’re brilliant and talented and a formal education might benefit you, but it wouldn’t begin to touch on what you can and cannot do.”  He bent to pressed his lips to her forehead.  “And yes, Lucien is an attractive man, and I have been attracted to men before.  But, Feyre, I have you and I have absolutely no intention of ever letting you go.”

He heard her breathing stutter slightly and he pulled her in closer, letting her bury her face in his chest.  She left out another stuttering breath and he realized she was likely crying, which was fine.  She was upset and had every right to be.  He should have spoken to her when he had hired Lucien.  He should have told her exactly what he was doing, but he hadn’t wanted to stress her while she was healing.

“And I doubt I could ever find myself attracted to a red-head again,” he pressed and earned a watery laugh.

“So you don’t want to bend him over your desk?”  She asked into his chest.  A probing question and some of her usual snark coming out, a sign she was starting to understand.

“The only one I want bent over my desk, Feyre Darling, is you.  And right now with you so coated in paint, I’d be more interested in rolling you out on a canvas to see what kind of art we could make together,” he pulled back to examine where paint had found its way into her hair.  “Can I see what you’re working on?”

“Nothing as exciting as what you just suggested,” she told him as she broke away.  Her hand stayed tightly in his as she pulled him out of his office and toward her studio.  He had expected her to be painting the walls or something along those lines.  Instead he found the canvas she had been sketching on two nights before. 

He broke away from her as he went to inspect the white lines that made up the rough mountain range and the splattering of white paint in the background marking the starry sky, but only the three stars about the mountain peak were truly visible.

“I want this,” he told her after a moment.  “I want it in my office where I can see it every day.”  He turned to see her staring at him.  “And I want to use the design for our company logo.”

“You’re joking,” she breathed out.

“No, I’m not.  I’ll pay you well for it too.”  He turned to pull her into his arms and to kiss her thoroughly.  His Feyre.  She was so cauldron talented.  “Mother Bless Me, do you even want to come back to work for me?  You could paint all the time, get a gallery, show your work.  You’d probably make a name for yourself fairly quickly.”

Feyre simply laughed at the prospect but he was serious.  She was talented and when he looked to the other paintings she had laying against the walls, he realized how talented.  He wasn’t sure what he had expected when he had discovered she liked to paint and went to community art classes.  It wasn’t mountain scenes, and colorful night skies, and forests in the winter.  He certainly wasn’t expecting her to be able to capture so much detail and make it look so eye-catching. 

“Tarquin hasn’t offered to buy your paintings?”  He asked when she continued to laugh.

“He searches out beachy scenes to set the mood for his resorts,” she sobered quickly.  “No one has ever been interested in my work, Rhys, so I’ll be coming back to work for you.”

“I’m interested in your work, and as soon as we negotiate a contract for use of it for Nox Industries to use it as a logo, everyone in Prythian will know your work too, and likely want it.”  He bent down to kiss her thoroughly.  “Lunch and then we can come back and you can decide if you want to paint me nude on a canvas, or just splatter paint on my nude.”

Feyre laughed but caught his hand and tugged him out of the studio.  The twinkle in her eye told him she might actually be considering which option she wanted and he couldn’t say he’d be disappointed if she picked one over the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you hoping for other pairings, they aren't coming. I may hint at a few but my main focus is Feysand. For anything I don't write, you are welcome to imagine whatever pairing is going on behind the scenes that you want. As always, I appreciate your reviews and comments.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre and Rhys have their meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, finished A Court of Frost and Starlight and got my chapter done.

Rhys paced in the conference room nervously.  He knew he could have the meeting with Feyre in his office but he wanted it to be formal.  He needed it to be formal so she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was serious.  Even after trying again to get her to list a price for her work while they had eaten lunch, she had scoffed at him.

He had meant to speak with her again after dinner but she had surprised him with a very different sort of painting.  Inspired by his comment about rolling her painted body around to see what would be created, she had found a white sheet somewhere and had carefully taped it down to the studio floor stretched taunt.  She had stripped naked then, had pulled him from his work at his desk with very little effort once he had a view of her delicious body, and had proceeded to bring out paint for them to cover themselves in to ‘paint’ the sheet.  The results had been a three-hour love making session that had left the sheet completely covered in paint, both of them completely exhausted, and covered in paint in places he hadn’t ever imagined one could get paint.  Even after a pre-sleep shower, he had been washing paint off of him when he had showered again in the morning.

Feyre hadn’t fared as well as him; she was far more exhausted by their session than he was.  A testament to the hours of training he still tried to fit into his busy life.  After re-examining his schedule for the day, he had let her sleep in and had promised a lunch meeting instead and promised to send a driver for her to give her the extra time she needed.

As he made a sweep by the door once more, he heard the elevator open and looked out of the glass to see Lucien hurry in with a bag on his arm.  A lunch meeting required lunch and while Rhys had been perfectly fine in having one delivered in, Lucien had insisted he go get it himself.  Rhys suspected he was more nervous about Feyre returning than he was letting on and had needed to go waste the nervous energy outside of the office.

Lucien came into the conference room and hastily started pulling out containers of food and covered drinks.  The movements were jerky enough that Rhys laid a hand on his shoulder, causing the red head to flinch almost imperceptibly.  A growl rose up in Rhys that he swallowed down.  Since Lucien had started working for him, it had become apparent that Tamlin had broken him just as much as he had broken Feyre if not in a different way.  It would take time for Lucien to understand there wouldn’t be painful consequences whenever his boss was stressed.

“I can set this up,” Rhys explained as he pulled his hand away.

“How are you not nervous about this?”  Lucien demanded as he stepped away.

“I am nervous,” Rhys retorted.  “But Feyre can be reasoned with and we talked about some of it yesterday.  She knows you’re here.  She knows I intend to keep you in this position.  Beside feeling displaced her biggest concern seemed to be that I would end up wanting you.”  He let out a soft chuckle at the thought still.  He doubted he’d have the energy to put up with anyone on top of Feyre even if he couldn’t even imagine wanting anyone else.

“Wanting me?  Wanting me to do what?”  Lucien frowned for a moment and Rhys only smirked at him.  Then Lucien’s eyes, one russet and the other golden, both widened and Lucien paled considerably.  “The answer is no.”

“It was never a question,” Rhys laughed.  “Feyre is all I’ll ever want or need and hopefully she’ll realize that soon.”  He started organizing the food containers so Feyre’s sat in the seat next to his and nothing would accidentally drip on the paperwork he had spent the morning researching and drawing up with Amren’s help.

“Is that purple paint on your neck?”  Lucien asked suddenly.  “Why would you have paint there?”

Rhys felt a blush rise up his cheeks before he fought it back and cleared his throat.  “My beautiful girlfriend is an artist.  It’s a hazard of being a very supportive boyfriend.”  A hazard he would happily face again if she decided she liked the art they had created and wanted to make more to sell it.  “Have you spoken to Feyre at all since everything?”

“No,” Lucien shook his head.  “I wanted to give her space.  She didn’t-doesn’t need me reminding her of bad things.”  Lucien frowned down at the glass table and Rhys felt the guilt rolling off of him.

“You’re not just talking about Amarantha,” he observed.

“No.  I know exactly what Tamlin did to her.  There’s not a moment I don’t remember what happened in the conference room that day or how broken she became after.  Or how easily you spotted the damage left behind,” Lucien glanced up at him.  “At yet, somehow, Tamlin always convinced me that you were worse for her.”

“I don’t portray a very nice person to the rest of the world,” Rhys shrugged.  He waited a moment, glanced at the doors, and then asked the question that had been in his mind since Lucien had paled at the thought of Rhys possibly wanting him sexually.  “Did Tamlin ever have you take Feyre’s place in regard to what he did to her body?”

Lucien froze, his eyes staring off at something far away though they were locked on the table.  Rhys had his answer then.  Yes.  Tamlin had moved his attentions to someone else after Feyre had gone. 

“Only once,” Lucien whispered.  “Before he and Ianthe started a consensual relationship.”

“That won’t happen here,” Rhys assured him.  “You can rest easily knowing I only want to abuse your skills and mind, not your body.”

“You abuse Feyre’s body,” Lucien shot back, a grin on his face.

“I worship her body.  It’s quite different,” Rhys chuckled.  “The only screaming she does for me is when she screams out my name and she’s not begging me to stop either.”  His grin widened as he heard the elevator doors open once more.  Feyre stepped out looking stunning as ever in a pencil skirt and a tight fitted blouse he would love taking off of her when they got home.  She saw his smile and returned it readily.  But she didn’t come straight for him, instead she made a bee-line for Lucien and threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she told him.  “You’re going to be a true asset to the company.”

Lucien returned her embrace, a blush on his cheeks, but he said nothing in return as he released her and retreated from the conference room.

“You’re in a good mood,” Rhys commented when the door closed.

“Why shouldn’t I be?”  Feyre closed the distance between them and kissed him soundly on the lips.  “Shall we get down to business?”

“Well, first, I ordered us lunch,” he waved at the table and held out a chair for her.

What followed lunch was easily one of the most interesting meetings he had had in his life.  The discussed her position first, and his hope that she would personally go out and introduce herself to every Velaris listed business as well as scout for new businesses or artists, and manage the existing businesses as needed.  Feyre expressed only two major concerns of hers throughout the first part of the meeting.  The first being that she was undereducated for such a position which he replied she was welcome to work on her schooling at work as part of her job.  In fact, he would welcome her to do her schooling completely at work if she chose.

The second issue was one he hadn’t even thought of because it wasn’t much of an issue.  Feyre couldn’t drive.  She had never had the time or money to learn such a skill.  Her sisters had learned before they had been too broke for Feyre to even attend school, but she hadn’t been given the same opportunity.  It was something she spoke of with a bit of shame though it was nothing to be ashamed of.  There was quite a large population in Prythian that didn’t know a thing about driving.  They relied on public transit as Feyre had done.

“Your ability to drive or not isn’t an issue.  I can assign a driver to you that will be ready to go whenever you are,” he promised.

“I feel like that would make it harder to scout out new businesses,” Feyre replied.  “I would feel like I need to be scheduled with a driver, not that I can just see a business and go right to it.”

“Right,” Rhys admitted.  He loved being able to drive himself for anything that wasn’t super official Nox Industries business.  He liked having that freedom.  “It will be a temporary solution until we can get you driving on your own then.”  He considered for a moment.  He could teach her but there was a possibility that learning from him wouldn’t go well.  Even during this meeting he was having a hard time keeping his mind on the task at hand.  His mind kept drifting to how she had writhed under him the night before and how he planned to find more ways to make her moan his name so loudly he was sure the neighbors had heard it.  “Perhaps we should look into actual driving instructors for you though.  I wouldn’t recommend Mor or Cassian to teach you as both have wrecked a fair number of vehicles.  Az would be a good teacher, but he might be pressed for time right now.”

“You don’t want to teach me?”  She asked, an eyebrow quirked.

“As much as I would love to be your instructor, Feyre Darling, I’m afraid my mind is far more focused on burying myself inside of you,” he admitted.

“Will it stop?”  Feyre asked softly as her cheeks burned red.  He quirked an eyebrow back at her.  “This need to have you.”

“I hope to the Mother it doesn’t,” Rhys informed her.  He loved how bluntly honest she was about pretty much everything.  The only things she had a hard time admitting were when she wanted things for herself, except sex.  She couldn’t hide when she wanted that and it was some sort of blessing from the Cauldron how well they fit together in that regard.  He wanted her, to be buried in her, to taste her, nearly every moment.  Enough that he was already considering taking another week off of work to take her far away from distractions where they could lay in bed all day and play.  But there were other things he needed to do first, like finish this meeting.  “Now, on to the other matter at hand before I lose focus completely.”

“Other matter?”  Feyre narrowed her eyes at him.

Rhys pulled out the papers from Amren that would give Nox Industries the right to the image Feyre had created.  It was all legal jargon that meant Feyre was signing over the rights to its use and couldn’t argue how it was displayed, but that was another matter entirely.  He would be questioning her every step of the way on how she best thought to use the image.  By the time Rhys had produced the check for Feyre to see he was indeed serious, tears were filling her eyes.

“You’re serious?”  She asked.  “You weren’t joking last night.”

“No, and I wasn’t joking about wanting to hang that in my office either.  I think it’s perfect and I want it.  If you don’t feel this is enough, I can see where else I can pull funding from.”  He held her gaze.

“No,” she whispered as she wiped at her eyes.  “This is too much.”

“No, it’s not.  It’s what I would pay any other artist for their work to be used in such a way,” he stood and pressed the check into her hand.  Then he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.  “I’d like to see what other work you have as well.”

“I love you,” she whispered.

“And I love you.  Now let’s go see which office you want and then we can talk about what changes you want,” he offered a hand down to her.

“What do you mean ‘changes’?”  She asked, taking his hand and letting him lead her from the conference room.

“Well, the offices haven’t been used in a long time.  They are severely outdated in style.  And I understand you might not want to be closed in,” he spoke softly as he touched on the subject.  Whether Feyre knew all the glass walls had been because of her, he didn’t know.  They certainly hadn’t discussed it but Lucien had commented on it the first day.  But there was more to it now.  Feyre had a hard time with small spaces.  She was getting better in cars, especially if she could have the windows down.  But rooms with walls were harder on her.  He would never forget the day he had left the bathroom while she was showering and he had closed the door.  He had been at work for nearly twenty minutes when he had gotten a frantic call from Nuala that Feyre was curled up on the shower floor sobbing.  It had become something he had actively reminded himself of every time he left a room Feyre was in.  No closed doors unless he was in there too.

He kept her hand in his as he pulled her from the conference room, letting go only to wrap an arm around her waist.  The hallway led them to door after door of offices that he had left unlocked.  He had shown them to her in her initial tour but now they truly looked at them.  Feyre examined every piece of each room from the view out the windows, to the old style desks his father’s executives had preferred, to the dated and worn carpet beneath their feet. 

Then they got to the one Rhys both wanted her to take and didn’t want her to take.  It was a corner office with windows stretching on two sides and extra space to move about.  It would give her that much more open feeling she needed.  It had traditionally belonged to whoever was second in command to each CEO of his line.  With his father, it had been Rhys’ while he was learning the business.  An office to ‘make him feel like he was actually learning to be in charge’ his father had declared.

It was still decorated the way he had liked it with the solid L shaped oak desk facing the door and a window in the center of the room alone with bookshelves, a comfortable desk chair, an old couch against one wall, and slightly newer carpeting than the other offices.  It would be perfect for Feyre with a few updates, but it was the furthest office from his on this floor.  Too far away for his own liking.

“This one feels different,” Feyre noted out loud.  “Like the person in it last wasn’t a corrupt bastard.”

“Why thank you, Darling,” Rhys chuckled.  “I try not to stain the world with my brooding.”  She shot him a bright smile.

“I like this one,” she told him.  “I might change out the carpet and that couch looks a little far gone.  Maybe something more updated might be in order,” she spun around looking.  “But otherwise I don’t think I’ll need to change the walls to be glass like yours.”  A sly look slid onto her face and he was partially worried.  “It might be nice to have some place private here.”

“Oh?”  He asked, still unsure of what she was thinking.  Perhaps a door she could lock Cassian out of or a place she could shut out the noise of the day.  But then her eyes turned to him, bright and… hungry.

“Care to help me make a claim to this office?”

There was no mistaking her meaning as she bit her lip and Rhys had the sense to close the door and lock it before he walked Feyre back against the wall.  Not over the desk like he would have wanted, but that was for her to decide when she was comfortable with that particular position.  It was a matter of a few simple moves to lift her skirt, remove her underwear, and unleash himself before he took her fully against the wall, hard enough that the one framed piece of art, an old print of a boat in the water, fell.

It took more than a few moments to sort themselves out afterwards, but Feyre was practically glowing with how happy she was, with how happy he had made her.  It was enough that Rhys wanted to jump her again but a quiet knock at the door had him opening it to look at a very sheepish Lucien.

“Your 2:30 is on their way up,” was the only thing Lucien said before he turned back down the hall.

With a sigh, Rhys realized that ravishing Feyre again would have to wait.  He was meeting with Kallias about a new health insurance for his workers and that did need to happen. 

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?”  Rhys asked as he led Feyre towards the lobby.

“I’m thinking I’m going to work from home since my office isn’t ready,” she announced.  “After I take this check to the bank, that is,” she produced the folded check from a pocket he wasn’t aware she had.

“I can take care of that part,” he took the check.  It would take him all of a moment to transfer the money from the business account to her private account rather than have her trek to any of the banking locations in Prythian.

“Then I think I’ll start looking at our businesses and mapping out a visiting plan,” she stopped in the lobby to offer him one kiss that left him smiling down at her.  She turned her bright smile on Kallias as he came off the elevator before entering it herself.

“I’ll be home for dinner tonight!”  He called after her.

“Bring home something good then,” was the only thing she called back as the doors closed.

Rhys couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face even as the elevator was gone and took Feyre with it.  When he did finally turn to Kallias, he caught the knowing look on the man’s face.

“I still get the same feeling with my wife whenever she deems it appropriate to come visit my office throughout the day, even if it’s to tell me I’m wrong,” came the quiet man’s confession.  “Shall we get on with the meeting.”

“Yes, right this way,” Rhys waved at the conference room.  It had already been cleared and reset by Lucien for him to sit and speak about insurance plans.  The meeting was nowhere close to how he wished he had spent his afternoon but it had to be done, even if his mind kept wandering right back to Feyre moaning against his shoulder while he had pounded her against the wall and how he wished he hadn't scheduled any meetings for the rest of the day.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre needs a vacation, Rhys has one planned

Rhys smiled at Feyre pouring over reports spread out across her desk from the open doorway.  Her hair was falling out of the braided knot she had set her hair into that morning.  Her suit jacket had been tossed over the back of her chair revealing a sleeveless blouse.  He could see through the gap at the bottom of the desk that she had abandoned her high heels and was currently barefoot on the tile floor.  She stopped looking at the reports for a moment to close her eyes and rub at her temples.

Feyre was tired.  He knew that much and knew she had every right to be.  Since she had taken up the position as his Velaris Incorporated Executive a month ago, she had completed her GED classes, had taken and passed the test, and had gotten her permit for driving to start taking driver’s classes.  On top of that she had visited every single business on the list of ones they owed, knew them all by heart and knew each owner personally, and was constantly aware of whatever special things were going on at each business.  She made a point to be a part of as much as possible.  She had also found them several more businesses and had worked with Rhys to come up with proper help for each business she had encountered, using each as a learning experience.  She barely had had energy to undress before bed each night and more than once, Rhys had found her asleep on top of the covers in pencil skirts and half unbuttoned blouses. 

She deserved a break.  A vacation.  A trip away from work where she could just relax and maybe paint.  He knew she hadn’t seen the inside of her studio in that month.  She took her new job seriously and getting her education up to par was her main goal after making sure she knew every business.  He knew she already had applied to college courses, with Azriel’s help, to start in a few weeks.  Business courses that Rhys knew Feyre would do very well at.  She was a natural when it came to business sense and simply needed some concepts explained once to her.

It was something Azriel commented on constantly and Lucien had started mentioning whenever he caught tidbits of their meetings when bringing in coffee or messages for either of them.

“Feyre Darling,” Rhys called to her and her eyes dragged up far too slowly from her reports.  He frowned at what he saw.  There was a dull, glazed look that coated her eyes and dark circles already starting to be visible.  Too much.  She was doing too much at once.  “I have a few free moments.  Come take a break with me,” he nodded to the couch that occupied part of one of her walls.

Her eyes glazed over in a different way.  Sex, he realized a moment later, she thought he was asking for a few stolen moments of pleasure while there was time.  With how busy she had made herself and the extra work Hybern had created for him, they hadn’t done more than exchange a kiss or two in passing in a while.  Another reason they needed a vacation, he needed time to worship her properly again without her falling asleep after a few kisses.

“Come on, Darling,” he waved her over to the couch and closed the door.  “Lucien told me you don’t have any meetings for an hour.  We have time,” he held out a hand to her and she rose to step around her desk and take it.  There were two ways to go about what he wanted to do the very direct way, which likely wouldn’t work in his favor, or the indirect way that would get her exactly where he wanted her.  Rhys chose the indirect way and pulled in her close to drop a searing kiss on her lips.  He traced his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened for him a heartbeat later and let him deepen the kiss.  Slowly he walked them back to the couch until he could lay her down against it.

Feyre moaned against his lips and he almost lost his resolve to be the proper gentleman.  He did want her and sex would indeed get her to relax, but it would also exhaust her further.  Tonight, he assured himself, he would take her home and have her, but right now she needed a nap on the very comfortable couch he had ensured was in her office.  He began the gentle stroke of his hands up and down her sides while he lessened his kisses until he was simply pressing his lips against her forehead and temple.  He was not impressed that it only took mere minutes for her to go completely limp against him cuddled against his chest.

Rhys laid with her until his brief half hour reprieve was up and then pulled himself out from under her, readjusting her as he moved so she was still comfortable on the couch.  He retrieved a small blanket from the storage closet in Feyre’s office, one he had stashed there in case they ever had to be there very late and either of them used the couch for this exact purpose, and tucked it around her.

Lucien looked up from his computer screen the moment Rhys came back down the hall.  He likely had been busy the entire half hour Rhys had been back with Feyre doing the exact things Rhys had asked him to do.

“All of both of your meetings for next week have been rescheduled,” Lucien confirmed before Rhys could even ask.

“Which meetings did Feyre have this afternoon?”  Rhys asked.

“Nothing that can’t be moved,” Lucien offered.  “Does she need more coffee?”

“She’s taking a nap.  One I hope she doesn’t wake from until it’s time to go,” Rhys stopped to lean against his doorframe.  He watched Lucien already pulling up the electronic version of Feyre’s schedule to find which meetings she had so he could call on her behalf.  Lucien had become invaluable to both him and Feyre and had taken up being assistant to Feyre as well as Rhys shortly after Feyre had settled in again.  Rhys had given him a raise because of it that Lucien had only argued about until Feyre had bluntly told him it saved Rhys from having to hire her a personal assistant too.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call a driver to take her home?”  Lucien asked after he had all of the contact information pulled up on his screen.

“Do you think she would let me send her home?”  Rhys asked.  He had contemplated it but he could only imagine Feyre would be mad at him for suggesting sending her home.  He was already pushing his luck with rearranging her appointments for the day and all of next week.  Not that he hadn’t checked into each of them first to ensure none of them were completely vital.  But he knew she wouldn’t appreciate everything being moved about on her.

“Depends on how nice of a resort you are taking her to,” Lucien chuckled.

“We’re not going to a resort,” Rhys turned to head back into his office.  “I’m taking her to my family’s cabin in the mountains.  No internet out there and no phone signal.  She’ll have to take a break and so will I.”

“No thanks,” Lucien shuddered.  “I like being connected to my phone and internet.  How else would I know all the juicy gossip in the world?”

“It will all be there when we return,” was all Rhys said as he closed his office door.  He had some things to get in order for them to actually leave for a week but his main priority had been Feyre.  With her seen to, he could finish up his work.

Surprisingly Feyre was not mad when she woke.  She blushed profusely when she wandered down from her office nearly three hours later as he was finishing up the last of his phone calls.  Her hair was unbound and her clothes were a bit rumpled but otherwise she looked more embarrassed than mad.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she told him when he waved her into his office.  “I’m sorry I keep falling asleep when you were looking for some physical attention.  I know we haven’t had much time to be together.”

Rhys rose and went to her, folding her into his arms to press a kiss to her forehead.  “Some day I will take you on that couch.  Today, that wasn’t the plan.  The plan was to get you to take a break.”  He pressed a kiss to each of her eyelids.  “You needed the rest.”

“And I missed my meetings,” her cheeks flushed hot against him, a sign she was blushing.

“I had Lucien reschedule them.  Along with everything next week as well,” he meant to go on but Feyre pushed away from him, hard.

“I’m not incapable, Rhys.  I worked much longer hours at physically harder jobs than this and kept up!  You don’t need to go be a Mother Hen about it!”

“I had him reschedule my meetings as well.  I wanted to take you on a short vacation.  Just a week, to give us some time alone together since we haven’t had much.  And to reward you for everything you’ve accomplished in such a short period of time.”  He tilted her chin up to stare down into her eyes.  He wanted her to see he was serious.  The Mother knew he believed she could and would accomplish all she wanted to do, but not before wearing herself out when she didn’t need to.  “I would never suggest you cannot handle what you put your mind to.” 

“Where are we going?  Or are we just staying home?”  She asked finally.

“There is a cabin in the Illyrian mountains that my family built.  It’s remote but it’s comfortable.  I figured I’d spend tomorrow morning getting supplies and then we’d go and spend a week resting and getting sick of each other.”  He bent to nip at her ear, hoping she would catch his meaning.

“Maybe we could start getting sick of each other now,” Feyre murmured against him.

“The couch?”  Rhys asked.  He would bend her over the arm of that couch in an instant but he’d rather take her home and have her there.

“What about right here?”  Feyre replied her hands sliding down his chest and lower.

“Lucien is right there and he won’t leave until I do,” Rhys reminded her.  It was a habit he had picked up with Tamlin.  Tamlin apparently had punished him one night for not being around when needed, so Lucien never left before his boss.  It gave Rhys one more reason to never stay late anymore.

“You don’t want an audience?”  She asked, a wicked smile on her face.

“You do?”  He replied back, an equally wicked smile.  “I know several places we could go to have a much better audience than our poor personal assistant.  Places where people pay to watch others have sex.  I think we could put on a good show if that’s what you are into.”

Feyre pulled back instantly, her nose wrinkling slightly at the way he had called her bluff.  “Have you ever done that before?”  She asked.

“Once,” Rhys admitted.  “Not necessarily by choice.”

Amarantha had dragged him to one once and had done some very twisted things to him while the audience had cheered.  He had been blindfolded but he had heard every insult thrown his way and every encouragement thrown hers.  It had been a pleasure house that focused on the more painful BDSM that Amarantha enjoyed.  Nothing like the places he could bring Feyre.

“Rhys…” Feyre murmured.  “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have teased.”

“Don’t be sorry, Darling.  It’s in the past.  And if you were even remotely interested in going to one to watch or to be the show, I’d be happy to oblige you.”  He pressed a searing kiss to her mouth.  He would love to see and do everything that would drive her to the brink of ecstasy.

“Eh hem,” Lucien cleared his throat from the doorway, a blush on his cheeks.  “Cassian called just now.  He’s on his way up.”

“Something important?”  Rhys asked.

“Who knows with him?”  Lucien replied, the blush fading from his face.  “Last time he called up, it was to gloat how his ID wasn’t failing anymore.”

“Feyre used to shut down the elevator on him three times a week at random,” Rhys explained.  “In retaliation for her welcome prank.”

“If I started doing it, do you think he would believe it was Feyre again somehow?”  Lucien asked with a chuckle.

“Could always try,” Feyre grinned.  “I’ll leave you to your meeting with Cassian and we can head out when you are done.”

Rhys smiled and watched Feyre swish her hips as she left the office.  A promise of what to expect at home.  Perhaps he would convince her to eat dinner first so he could lay her out on the table and eat off of her.

“I don’t know what you are thinking about exactly, but can you not?  It’s uncomfortable watching you eye fuck my friend in the back,” Lucien drawled.

“The only one that can ask me not to do it is her, and she is quite happy with any way I fuck her.  With my eyes, mind, or body,” Rhys replied.  Lucien only made a disgusted noise, shot a rude gesture at him, and went back to his desk.  Rhys could only chuckle.  It was his hope to break Lucien of some of the formalness that Tamlin and Lucien’s father, Beron, before that, had beaten into him.  He had an easy manner with Feyre as friends, it would be nice to see if Lucien could become that way with him too.

Cassian arrived only a minute later and simply smirked at him from the doorway.  “You’re taking Feyre to the cabin?”  He asked after Rhys glared at his brother.  “Don’t ruin my bedroom up there with your crazy vacation sex.”

“Like I’d use your room for anything.  It’s probably too contaminated with your juices everywhere,” Rhys snorted.  “Like we don’t know you hide in your room and masturbate after we hunt and get drunk each year.”

“Like I’m the only one,” Cassian snorted.  “I hope Feyre’s on birth control or she’ll get pregnant just walking around your room.”

“Fuck off,” Rhys flipped his brother a specific finger.  “Are you just up here to complain about my vacation destination?”

“Yes,” Cassian gave him a shit eating grin.

“Alright then, I’m taking Feyre home now.  Have a good week, Cassian.”  Rhys shoved past him and went to collect Feyre from her office.  He flipped Cassian one more rude gesture as he escorted Feyre past him to the elevator.

Rhys was happy to discover Nuala and Cerridwen had dinner prepared for them before they left for the evening which meant they could eat dinner right away and Rhys could convince Feyre to bed early.  With her rest that afternoon, he took advantage of her few extra moments of being awake to give her a taste of what to expect on vacation.

In the morning he left Feyre a note, abandoned his sports car for his little used SUV, and drove to several different stores.  He stopped first at Feyre’s art supply store to buy her paint, canvases, and a travel kit of brushes along with a large sketch pad and charcoal.  He wanted to make sure she had plenty to work with while she was there.  Then he went to the lingerie store Feyre frequented and bought her several new pieces to model for him.  The ladies that owned the store were far too happy to point him in the right direction for things Feyre might actually enjoy.  He made a stop at his favorite jewelers to collect several orders he had placed.  Then Rhys had gone to the grocery store to make sure they would be fed and supplied for the week.

When his SUV was loaded down, he went home and helped Feyre to pack a bag of weather appropriate clothing for them before he bundled her into the car for the long drive up to Illyria.

It was a long drive and it was late afternoon by the time they turned off the main roads and started the climb into the mountains.  He navigated the roads by memory alone, mostly from his childhood but also from annual hunting trips he took with Cassian and Azriel to remind themselves they were considered warriors of the Illyrian clans.  The sun was starting to set by the time they pulled onto a small dirt road enclosed by trees.  His whole body relaxed as they came into view of the cabin.

“I thought you said it was a cabin, not a mansion?”  Feyre quipped at him.

Rhys chuckled.  The cabin was large.  Large enough to hold his family and give them space to be apart while they relaxed.  He had brought his entire Inner Circle up at one point to give them some reprieve together.  It had ended with Mor and Amren ready to rip each other to shreds.

“Go explore while I unload the car,” Rhys told her as he opened her door and handed her the key to the front door.  She gave him a kiss and disappeared through the front door.  He knew what she was seeing inside.  The entrance opened into a big common room where arm chairs and couches sat around a large fireplace.  The kitchen and dining room were open and off to one side while a hallway led to a large bathroom and a sauna.  The staircase in the back of the hallway led up to the bedrooms upstairs that each had their own bathrooms.  Rhys’ bedroom had a tub large enough for both of them.  The entire place was furnished both comfortably and expensively.  A combination of his mother’s culture and his father’s insistence for spending money on good quality.

The cabin had been built as a peace offering from his father to his mother.  A way to give her a place to come back to in the mountains she had been born and raised in away from the Illyrian clans but close enough to visit if she wished.  It wasn’t where they had stayed when he had been learning what it was to be Illyrian.  That had been a two-story wooden hovel with two bedrooms upstairs and an open room downstairs that held the dining room, kitchen, and sitting space altogether.  The only bathroom had been an outhouse at the back of the house.  If they showered at all, it was in a wooden stall where they had to heat water to be poured over them.  This was far more luxurious than that, far more luxurious than his townhouse.

The best part was they would be completely and utterly alone.  The one phone in the house was for emergency use only.  They would have time to just be together.  She could draw and paint, and he would read nearby while she worked.  When they needed a break from their activities, they could go hiking.  And when they were in the mood, they would explore so many different areas of the house with their bodies as they explored each other.

It would be perfect.  The vacation they would come back and have time and again just to remember that at some point, when everything was absolutely perfect, Rhys would produce the box Mor had brought from his family’s estate.  They would remember the loving things he would say in hopes that she would forgive how quickly he was springing things on her.  And with any hope, they would remember how she said ‘yes’ to him and then she would wear the star shaped sapphire perched on a silver band for the rest of their lives.

“Rhys?”  Feyre’s voice came from the door.  “Are you coming or are you going to stay out there and stare at this monstrosity you call a cabin all night?”

Rhys chuckled, shook his head of the image of Feyre wearing his mother’s ring, and then started to unload the boxes and bags he had spent the morning gathering.  It wouldn’t be tonight.  Tonight would be for settling in and perhaps getting Feyre to model some of the new pieces of lingerie he had bought for her.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter warning.

It had been perfect; she had been perfect.  The cabin had been the absolute perfect idea for everything.  Rhys knew in the coming weeks he would long for lounging in bed until late morning when hunger finally drove them from the warm covers and each other’s bodies.  He knew he would long for the quiet of watching Feyre paint or sketch while he pretended to read.  He knew he would long for the way Feyre took in the beautiful pine forest scenery that trailed up and down the mountain side.  And he knew for certain he would long for that absolute perfect moment once more.

It hadn’t come when he had expected.  He had thought it might happen on one of their hikes.  That the beauty of it all would cause just the perfect setting and mood.  It hadn’t.  It had been beautiful and wonderful, but never the perfect moment.

It hadn’t come during quiet evenings drinking hot chocolate before the fire while cuddling on the couch.  Those evenings had been very intimate and would remain burned into his memory forever, but they had not been perfect for what he wanted.

It hadn’t come during long hours where he had been on his knees before her, worshipping her body.  Or when she had been on her knees before him.  Or when they had both been in other positions, as they had gone through many.  Their love making was always perfect, proof she and he had somehow been made to fit together.  But none of it had been the perfect time to propose marriage.

It had happened on the second to last night.  He had gone out for a hike while she had been far too entranced in a painting to join him.  That had been fine, space apart was always rewarded with far less space between them later.  So he had gone, attempting to scout for the most beautiful place where he would finally propose because time had been running out.  But when he had returned home still not feeling right, Feyre was no longer painting.  She was in the kitchen at the stove, a sight he had never witnessed before.  If he was a bad cook, Feyre was worse.  She had never learned and never had had time to hone those skills.  In the last week between the two of them, they had enjoyed many frozen pizzas, very simple meals that Rhys had been able to actually cook, and a lot of precooked food that only needed to be warmed.  Feyre was working on the warming part it seemed as she stirred a pot.

“You’re beautiful,” Rhys had told her and she had smiled over her shoulder at him.  Then he had come up behind her, holding her against him just to watch her stir soup and to be close to her.

“I like how we fit together,” she had commented.  “Like I belong just right here, always.  Like this is the place I was created to be in.”  She had wiggled back against him to emphasize she had meant against his body. 

“I have thought the same thing many times over,” he had murmured back.  “But not just how well you fit against my body.”  He had then detailed every moment he had ever thought she might be perfect for him, starting from the day he had met her in the elevator and it had occurred to him right then and there, it was perfect.  Them talking about how they fit together so well and him telling her all of the ways she had been amazing for him. 

He had intended to be all traditional when he proposed, to take a knee and ask for her to marry him.  He had intended to do this correctly, but instead he had taken the ring out of his pocket while he had been talking and had slipped it onto her left ring finger without her so much as realizing until she had gone to stir the pot of soup once more.

“Rhys,” she had breathed out his name and it had never sounded sweeter.

“Darling,” he had murmured back.  “You said you didn’t want a diamond for an engagement ring, am I correct?”  He hadn’t planned on the teasing but the laugh Feyre had broken into had been worth it and soon they were both laughing, and kissing, and it wasn’t until the soup had boiled over that they had sobered.  “Marry me?”  He had whispered after they had taken the soup from the stove.

“You love me?”  She had asked and he had nodded, unable to tell her that love was not a strong enough word for what he felt deep in his bones for her.  “Then yes.”

The smile on his face, on her face, even as they had packed up the car two mornings later, had still been from that night and the following day and night.  They hadn’t left the bedroom except to eat.  Rhys had marveled at how well that ring had fit her.  It had never truly fit his mother’s hand though she had worn it often enough.  But it had always been a bit tight on her.  But with Feyre it seemed to have been made to fit her slender artist’s hands.

“You’re sure you would be okay with a small wedding?”  Feyre asked when they got into the car.

“I’m sure,” he assured her for the tenth time since she had brought up that she didn’t want some big, crazy, over the top wedding.  “If you truly wanted it could be just me and you going to the court house together.”

“Our family might have objections to that,” she replied and he grinned at her.  Our family.  She was a part of his family already but that she realized it too was beautiful.

“Tell me what you are envisioning in that lovely mind,” he begged and she gave in.  It was clear Feyre had never been one of those girls to plan out her entire wedding.  And she wasn’t a girl to lean towards tradition either.  She wasn’t sure she wanted a traditional wedding gown.  White tulle, lace, and gossamer weren’t really here style and he couldn’t help but agree.  Not that she wouldn’t make any gown look beautiful by association with her, but perhaps one needed to be custom made for her specifically. 

“My sister, Elain, owns a flower shop,” Feyre had hummed out an hour into their drive.

“She does,” Rhys recalled.  The same sister he had bought the wedding gown of and had never heard from after, Feyre had never heard from after, though he had received the bill.  He wondered if she had married yet or if that was still to come.

“Her shop is the kind Velaris would help.  Perhaps I’ll make a stop out there to enquire both about that and about wedding flowers,” Feyre turned her beautiful eyes to him.  “I should invite my sisters.  They are the only blood family I have left.”

“You can do whatever you want,” he told her honestly.  “You don’t have to feel obligated just because they are your sisters.  And I can play nice if they do come.” 

Over the quiet of the week, they had had time to talk about her sisters a little more.  He had told her all about his family and she had told him all about hers.  She knew exactly how he felt about both of her sisters.  They should have taken care of her, not the other way around.  Had his parents died and his sister had lived, he would have found himself in a similar situation to Nesta, albeit with more money to support them.  But he never would have forced his sister to work.  He would have worked himself to death to keep her fed, educated, and happy.  He certainly never would have demanded more and more money from his sister if she had worked.  Nesta and Elain, it seemed, always had an eye on current fashions and required new clothes with every fashion season while Feyre had worn patch clothes that were close to falling apart.

“Somehow I doubt that you can play nice,” Feyre chuckled.  “Please tell me you don’t want some horrible garden venue covered in roses.”

“Gardens can be good venues, but they aren’t really what I am thinking for my beautiful bride,” he grinned at the words.  His bride.  He was going to marry Feyre Archeron.  “What do you have in mind?  An art gallery?”

He listened as she started talking through the different merits of different venues, and the benefits of keeping it small, if he was fine with it.  He snorted whenever she brought up the size.  Feyre didn’t like being observed by crowds, he understood that.  Being the center of attention hadn’t ever been a good thing for her.  But something with the family and maybe a few others would be perfect for both of them.  All he wanted was his close family.

Rhys felt, rather than saw, something hurtle for the driver’s side window.  The glass shattered as he instinctively swerved the SUV and then all he feel was pain.  All he could see was blood.  And all he could hear was Feyre screaming his name as the vehicle came to a sudden halt.  The airbag exploded out of the steering wheel and merciful darkness overtook everything but the sound of Feyre still screaming his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a horrible person. I know this.


	22. Chapter 22

Consciousness found Rhys and all he could see around him was impenetrable darkness.  Somewhere in the distance he could hear Feyre’s voice, distressed and frantic, pleading.  He heard her sobbing.  Was she lost in the darkness too?  She wasn’t necessarily scared of the dark but perhaps it felt like an enclosed space to her.  He tried to reach out in the direction that she had been, to his right, but absolutely nothing met his hand.

It felt like an eternity listening to Feyre sob and plead in that darkness.  A long eternity where he couldn’t find her in the darkness.  No matter which way he moved, she wasn’t there and the sobbing was always so far away.  He needed to get to her, to fix whatever had caused her unhappiness, to assure her everything would be fine if they were together.

Then in the distance he spotted a pinpoint of light and he made for it.  Light meant he would be able to see what was going on.  Light meant he would be able to get a handle on the situation.  So he went closer to it and it grew until the edges of the darkness and the light blended into gray wisps of shadow where he halted at the people he could see standing just beyond the edge of the gray in the white blinding light.

“Hello, Son,” his father spoke, his voice oddly distant as he placed an arm around Rhys’ mother and placed the other hand on Rhys’ sister’s shoulder.  They were exactly as he had last remembered them.  His father’s hair was turning silver and his violet eyes were lined with wrinkles from long days at the office.  His mother’s dark skin was offset by her bright hazel eyes.  Her dark hair was pinned back, showing the proud planes of her face with her high cheekbones and full lips.  His sister had only been sixteen when she had died, and she was an exact copy of his mother.

“Am I dead?”  Rhys asked looking back at the blackness.  He had always heard people describe death as going into the light and he had never believed them.  Now he was standing at the edge of it, and he had practically run for it.  Distantly in the dark he could hear Feyre’s screaming his name again and again.

“Not quite,” his sister smirked at him.  The same smirk that he always flashed in Feyre’s direction.  Something they both had inherited from their father.  “Apparently you couldn’t even do that right.”  He missed her wit that she often threw right at him whether prompted or not.  He missed his sister and unknowingly he took another step forward, a toe slipping into where the light met the gray.  Feeling faded from that toe, feeling he wasn’t even aware he had had.  He halted his advance once more.

“What does this mean?”  He waved around them.  “Where am I?”

“You’re between,” his mother explained.

“You can decide,” his father took over.  “You can’t run back that way,” he gave an imperious nod to the black beyond Rhys’ back.  “But you can stay right where you are and see if they find some way to save you.  Or you can end it now and step all the way into the light.”

Rhys frowned at the toe he had placed into the light.  Slowly he pulled it back into the gray.  Thousands of images exploded around him.  Memories of the family standing before him and memories of the family waiting for him in the land of the living.  Memories of Feyre and their far too short relationship.  And in a blink, it was all gone again.

“Rhysand,” his mother’s soft voice drew his attention back.

“I should come with you.  I have missed you so much,” he made to step forward but she stopped him with a shake of her head.  “But you’re my family…,” he pleaded with her.

“You have a family.  You have Morrigan, and Azriel, and that bumbling Cassian,” his father replied.  “And whatever drake of a human you pulled up as your damned lawyer.  Piece of work, that one.”

Rhys couldn’t help but give a watery chuckle.  He did have a family.  He had his inner circle and they had done without him once, and had been pissed about it.  What would they do if they got here and they found out he had chosen to die.

“And don’t forget that woman wearing Mom’s ring,” his sister added.  “She sounds awfully upset to know how close to death you are.”

The words made something in the air change.  Around him he could hear Feyre’s voice louder though she seemed to be whispering.  “Please, please don’t leave me, Rhys.  I need you.  I can’t do this alone.  I need you.  Please.  I love you.”  Her voice broke and it broke something in him further.  Feyre, he needed to get back to Feyre.  Without realizing it, he had pulled fully back into the gray, away from his family and the light.

“Go have a life, Rhysand,” his mother pressed.  “Go get married, have children, and live a life.  We love you.”

Darkness started to overtake the gray once more and he saw his mother smile.  Slowly his mother and sister faded, leaving only his father staring at him.  The man had been hard on him in life but now he wished he had spent more time listening to his father.

“Don’t make the same mistakes I made, Rhys.  You can be a better man.  Make time for your family.  Don’t make the mistake of believing you might always have more time.”  Then slowly his father faded too as the darkness reclaimed him once more along with overwhelming pain, and too many sounds to process, and the constant sound of Feyre pleading. 

Then darkness overcame him once more and it was different than before.  It was softer, lulling him into a place where pain didn’t matter and he could simply dream. 

Consciousness came back in little sensations.  At first it was a constant pressure against his chest, right over his heart.  Not uncomfortable, but there.  Then it was the prickling of pain along the left side of his neck and shoulder.  Then it was the brightness of light beyond his eyelids.  Then it was sounds.  A beeping, slow and steady somewhere to his right, and a clicking noise like someone typing on a keyboard across the room.  Then it was a scent, a specific scent.  Feyre’s shampoo.  He’d know that scent anywhere because he constantly buried his nose in her hair as they slept at night.  It was one of the most comforting scents he could ever think of.

Slowly he reached a hand up to the pressure on his chest, realizing something was dragging along behind his hand.  He felt slow, uncoordinated, but he could move and his hand connected with something round covered in something silky.  He managed to crack open an eye and then the other, blinking away tears at the brightness.  Then he managed to look down at his chest, at a mass of golden brown.  A beautiful mass of golden brown that he recognized immediately.  Feyre’s hair.  Which meant the comfortable pressure just over his heart was Feyre resting her head against him.  She didn’t stir even as he ran fingers through her hair.

Slowly he took in the room around him starting with the IV trailing from his right hand to the monitors on his right side that he recognized from Feyre’s visit to the hospital.  One monitored his heart in a slow, steady stream.  The other monitored his brain activity as it spiked while he explored.  Beyond the monitors was a room very much like the one he had spent far too long in with Feyre after Amarantha had had her.  But now the positions were reversed and Feyre was half on the chair next to the bed, and half laying across him.  Beyond Feyre was a table and chairs where the source of the typing noise stopped.  Azriel sat there, his hazel eyes tired as he turned to look at Rhys.

“Good evening, or I guess it became morning about 10 minutes ago,” he spoke quietly, likely because Feyre was asleep.  Azriel’s eyes went to her after a moment and then he stood to come adjust a blanket that had fallen from Feyre’s shoulders.

“What happened?”  Rhys asked knowing Azriel would give it to him straight.  His voice was gravelly from disuse and he felt an odd pull at his neck when he spoke.

“The short version is you were shot through the driver’s window and then crashed your car,” Azriel explained.

“What’s the long version?”  Rhys demanded.  There were far too many details missing from the short version.  He needed that information to try and piece together what had all happened.  He had been shot?  They had still been well onto the Illyrian reservation where no one owned guns.  They used bows and arrows for distance fighting and hunting.  Spears still for close range hunting.  And wicked knives and swords for close range combat.  Guns were considered a cop-out.

“The Mother and the Cauldron must want you alive,” Azriel started.  “You managed to crash your car just on the edge of where you can get minimal cell phone service.  Feyre called me after everything frantic.  She didn’t know where she was.  She didn’t know what had exactly happened.  All she knew was something had broken your window and you had crashed the two of you into a bunch of trees.  You were unconscious and bleeding quite a bit from your neck, apparently the bullet nicked the artery.  Feyre held it together exceptionally well all things considered and followed my instructions to staunch the bleeding while Cassian went with Thesan’s emergency helicopter team to locate the two of you.  It’s a good thing you were on a main road.  It made you easy to spot.  Cassian said the medical team confirmed it had been a bullet that had broken the window and hit you, and that you should have been very dead.”  The glazed look in Azriel’s eyes told Rhys enough about how he felt on that matter.

“Not like I intended to get shot where no one owns guns, Az,” Rhys complained.

“Oh, we know,” Azriel grumbled.  “I doubt you’ll be able to have your honeymoon without Cassian though.  He’s the one who had to deal with Feyre once the helicopter made it to Dawn Medical.  I don’t know who was more of a wreck after, especially when your heart did stop in the helicopter.”

Instinct had Rhys wanting to pull Feyre closer but he couldn’t.  He knew he didn’t have the strength to pull her onto the bed.  He had put her through so much unintentionally.  “So what’s the damage then?”  Rhys asked.

“Well, you’re down a car and quite a bit of blood,” Azriel told him practically.  “You’re also likely going to be missing some freedom for a while as I truly doubt you’re going to be left by yourself any time soon.”

“Cassian or Feyre?”  Rhys asked knowing his brother was just as clingy as Feyre might be.  He could understand on both fronts.

“Both,” Azriel replied with a quiet smile.  Rhys pulled a face.  He loved both of them, very differently, but the two of them hounding him together would be beyond unbearable.  “Cassian has guards on the door here, mostly because Thesan allowed it to keep Cassian from moving into the room.”

Rhys nodded his understanding and then reached a hand up to the left side of his neck.  There was a bandage along the side of his neck going down to his shoulder.  Under the bandage he could feel pain at the contact but it was much closer to the edge of his neck than the center.

“Law enforcement, found the bullet when they searched the site.  Military grade.  They suggested it might have been a sniper.  They will be coming around to question you at some point.  We suggested it might have been Hybern, but you do have plenty of enemies. It’s a miracle it didn’t hit just a little to the side.”  Azriel explained.

“I swerved the car.  I don’t know what instinct kicked in but I felt something coming for the window and swerved,” Rhys explained.

“And gave yourself a chance,” Azriel smiled.

“I crashed the car,” Rhys looked down at Feyre.  “Did she get injured?”

“Bumps and bruises.  Thesan confirmed it after you were settled, though he had to do it in here because she refused to leave your side.  I’m a little surprised she didn’t insist on going into the operating room with you,” Azriel placed a hand on Feyre’s shoulder.

“She did, actually,” Cassian’s voice came from the door.  “More than insisted actually.  She screamed and kicked and fought to follow after you.  They were talking about sedating her.  No amount of strength training ever prepared me to try and hold her back from you.”

“Is there a reason the two of you are here this late?”  Rhys asked when Azriel didn’t look surprised at Cassian’s intrusion.

“I was keeping an eye on Feyre and cutting through some of the work that has built up,” Azriel looked to Cassian.  “And this one was being a Mother Hen.”

“I’ve said it probably twenty times in the past three days and I’m going to say it again.  You didn’t see the amount of blood on her from him.  You didn’t hear her screaming and pleading.  And you didn’t get kicked in the groin four times trying to let the doctors do their work.”  Cassian shook his head and shifted his stance to protect himself a little more.  “And you weren’t there when his heart stopped, you didn’t hear that silence, or how broken Feyre sounded after they got it started again.  So, I think I have the right to Mother Hen as much as I damned well want.”

“So... blood loss, bullet wound,” Rhys looked to Azriel.

“Concussion from the airbag,” Azriel added.  “All things considered, you’re walking away very lucky.”

“You call that lucky?”  Cassian demanded.

“Considering the circumstances, yes,” Azriel replied, his voice completely even.

“And what’s this about an engagement?”  Cassian turned his eyes back to Rhys.  “Why didn’t you tell us you were going to propose?  We should have been there to see that!”

Rhys looked down to Feyre and to her hands where they rested against him.  His eyes focused in on her left ring finger.  The silver band with the star shaped sapphire was missing from her slender fingers.

“That’s likely why he didn’t tell you,” Azriel informed Cassian.  “He likely wanted some damned privacy.”

“What happened to her ring?”  Rhys asked, his eyes still focused in on the spot.

“Mor took it to be cleaned again.  It was a little… bloody,” Cassian sighed.  “Why can’t you two go more than a few months without giving us a damned heart attack?”

“Certainly not something I ever plan to do,” Rhys reached down to stroke Feyre’s hair again.  “When can I go home?”

“Thesan will check on you tomorrow and give you his verdict,” Azriel moved to grip Rhys’ arm.  “We discussed it,” Azriel nodded between him and Cassian.  “And we are going to stay with you until no longer needed.”

“Feyre is amazing, but she can’t drag your ass back to bed if needed,” Cassian explained.  “And Nuala and Cerridwen have to go home at some point.  They can’t cook all the time when you are hungry.”

“If I kick you out of the house?”  Rhys asked with a raised eyebrow.

“We’ll just sit on the rooftop garden and wait until you get hungry again,” Cassian threatened.

Anything else that might have been said was lost as Feyre shifted slightly and let out a soft moan, and not one that incited any indecent thoughts.  Just someone who disliked their sleep being disrupted. 

“Can you take her home to sleep in an actual bed?”  Rhys asked his brothers.  “As much as I like her here, she’d get much better sleep in bed.”  He loved having her against him but at the same time, he knew she wasn’t getting good rest where she was and her back would hurt in the morning.

“She won’t leave,” Cassian explained.  “We’ve tried.”

“She wants to be where she can hear your heart,” Azriel explained.

Rhys stopped trying to reason for her to go be comfortable.  He still had a hard time sleeping if Feyre got up without him after she had been taken.  He fully understood she needed some piece of mind that his heart was beating.  She had heard it stop.  It probably haunted her the same way the sound of her neck breaking did to him.

“Then put her up on the bed,” Rhys told his brothers.  “If any of the nurses argue, you can tell them I insisted.  If they want to argue about it, then they can argue with me.”

Cassian nodded his understanding and lifted Feyre fairly easily up onto the hospital bed on Rhys’ good side.  They spent a few minutes rearranging the cords until they wouldn’t be pulled by any movement Feyre made, and then Azriel settled the blanket over Feyre once more.

“We’ll be back in the morning,” Azriel told Rhys, slinging his arm around Cassian’s shoulder.  Rhys watched his two brothers leave the room and then settled in to sleep, his arms around Feyre properly.  She snuggled in closer to his chest and Rhys couldn’t help but smile, his father’s advice ringing in his ears.  He would make sure Feyre was well aware she was a priority, that his family knew they were priorities.  Work could wait.  They could put measures in place to make things run a little more smoothly so days off were far easier to come by.

And there was something else he needed to do.  It was time to improve his company’s image.  Reveal the truth of who they really were and get rid of the scumbags on their board.  Feyre believed they could start now, so he would.  As soon as he was free of the hospital he’d start planning with his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all should be used to this stuff with being fans of Sarah's. She has only ever guaranteed the survival of Fleetfoot and no one else. But I'm not heartless. I'm thinking I'll be ending this story probably fairly soon. We'll see where the plot bunnies take me.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys recovers and makes an important decision about his company.

It took no more than a week for Rhys to recover, mostly from the blood loss and the concussion.  The stitches on his neck still needed time but Thesan himself had taken a moment to assure Rhys and Feyre there would be little scarring to mar Rhys’ beautiful looks.  It had given Feyre a laugh that she had desperately needed. 

Rhys had only stayed in the hospital for one more day after waking up, to make sure he could manage on his own, before he was sent home.  And while he loved his brothers, he seriously could not wait for the moment they moved back out of his house to their own respective places.

Azriel had taken up residence in the living room while Cassian had taken Feyre’s old room.  The bed was too short which had him complaining constantly.  Azriel, however, didn’t complain once about the couch that he slept on when he did sleep. 

And because they were his brothers, he felt more than obligated to spend the week with them, reassuring them he was indeed alive and remembering his father’s advice.  But he truly just wanted a few days alone with Feyre to hold her while they watched a movie or read.  He wanted to assure her the way she needed, which was being as close as possible to him.  He had tried once, to let her cuddle up to him while he watched a movie with his brothers, but Cassian had started to make gagging noises that had eventually driven Feyre to another chair.

Feyre was oddly quiet, her fire muted, and he understood.  It had been traumatic for her.  He hadn’t truly had a chance for it to be traumatic to him.  It had happened so fast.  But for Feyre, she had been begging his body to live for nearly an entire day.  She had been covered in his blood.  She had lost him and had regained him. 

Mor came over nightly to spend time with her favorite cousin, she claimed.  He reminded her often he was her only cousin.  But she also spent a good amount of time with Feyre trying to talk out wedding plans.  Feyre obliged her but wasn’t nearly as forthcoming as she had been in the car right before everything.

At their Saturday family dinner, Rhys finally revealed his plans to everyone to make their association with Velaris public.  Not only that, but also to open it up for businesses to apply to be under their protection.  He directed most of his plans to Feyre, who only nodded along.  It would affect her the most.  Instead of scouting businesses and artists, she would likely be meeting with them in her office in a steady stream if it created the sort of buzz everyone else believed it might.

They spent most of dinner coming up with criteria and limits until Mor claimed she was exhausted and Amren was already heading for the door.  When Cassian got up to take care of the dishes, Rhys made a point to take Feyre’s hands and pulled her up from the table.  She followed wordlessly as Azriel made his way to the kitchen.

The climbed up to the third floor and then up to the rooftop garden where he had an iron table and chairs, and remnants of the drinks his brothers had had last night after he and Feyre had gone to bed.  He sat in one of the chairs and pulled Feyre onto his lap, letting her cuddle in until her head was resting on his shoulder and her hand was over his heart.

“This is truly dependent on you, Darling,” he broke the silence after only a few minutes.

“It will make things busier, but I think it needs to be done.  We can’t find everyone that needs help scouting here and there, and not everyone needs or wants help.  This way people know they can come to us,” Feyre replied.  “Are you ready to open yourself up like this?”

“I think so.  It will be a necessary change to show the world we aren’t what we pretend to be.  Make my family’s company a positive change in the world,” he stroked her hair.  “And if you ever grant me the blessing of children, they won’t have to grow up playing this game.”

He had never asked her about children, if she wanted them or not.  Given her not so wonderful childhood, he wasn’t sure if she actually wanted children.  They used contraceptive tonics to keep their activities from producing children but that wasn’t uncommon for unmarried couples and they had never truly discussed it.  It was just something both of them did.

“As the wife of some big important CEO with a legacy in a big company, isn’t giving you a child required?”  Feyre asked softly.

“No.  Your body is your own, Feyre.  If you don’t want to have a child, that’s fine.  I am happy just to have you forever,” he squeezed her tighter to himself.

“Do you want children?”  Feyre asked him, her eyes turning up to see his face. 

“I would be honored if you ever wanted to give me a child, Feyre,” he assured her.  “But if you don’t want to, I can make due with Cassian.” 

Below them, three stories below them in the courtyard garden, they both heard Cassian growl out a curse on both of them.  Feyre burst out laughing immediately and Rhys couldn’t help but follow suit.  He hadn’t known his brother, or more likely brothers, were eavesdropping from below but it had worked well in his favor.

“I don’t feel like I’ve gotten enough time with just you,” Rhys commented as they both turned their eyes up to the stars above them.

“So you want to hold off on children,” Feyre replied.

“That’s not what I meant,” he sighed.  He hadn’t even drawn the connection between the two conversations until she had made it for him.  “I meant, with Cass and Az here all week and Mor dropping in, I haven’t had enough time to just sit and be with you.  Maybe another vacation is in order.”

“We haven’t even gone back to work from the last one,” she let out a soft laugh.  “And we should get these changes off the ground.  Make your dreams come true.”

“You are my dream come true,” Rhys breathed out.  A dream he hadn’t even been aware he had.  Some long-lost wish on the stars above him.

“To the dreams that are answered,” Feyre murmured, snuggling in closer to his chest. 

“And the stars who listen,” Rhys concluded, folding his arms around her tighter.

Rhys would have been content to fall asleep in the chair on the roof that night as Feyre had already fallen asleep cuddled into his lap, but Cassian seemed unable to allow them any more peace as he burst onto the roof and startled Feyre wide awake in his reminder that Rhys should be resting properly in a bed.  He was followed by a very apologetic Azriel.

“We should go to bed,” Feyre sighed and detangled herself from him. 

He followed after her plotting terrible ways to wake Cassian up in the morning.  Inside the privacy of the bedroom and behind a locked door, Rhys pulled Feyre back to him to strip the clothes from her body.  They hadn’t been sleeping unclothed since his brothers had come to stay, but it was their problem not his or Feyre’s if they walked into his bedroom to see them unclothed.  She was happy to assist him in undressing as well until every last article of clothing was on the floor in a heap in front of the door.

“Another week and then we won’t pull stitches on accident,” he whispered.  “But I can do this.”  He slipped his hand down between her legs.  “It’s been too long since I last heard you moaning out my name.”

“Are you trying to drive Cassian and Azriel out?”  She whimpered as she opened more fully to him.

“Mostly just Cassian,” Rhys admitted.  “Az has been fine.”  He started to suck on the pulse point on her neck.  “Tomorrow morning I’m going to put that stuffed Bryaxis in the shower for him.”

Feyre barked out a laugh followed by an exceptionally loud moan when he pressed down on just the right spot.  Her moans only got louder as he worked her up to the point where she would shatter.  He would have given anything to be inside of her while she went over the edge, but it would have to wait.  He kissed her softly as she came down and began to stroke her body in the way that usually lulled her to sleep. 

When she was out, he heard the quietest knock on the door.  He didn’t even bother hiding his nudity or that certain parts of him were still very aroused as he went to open the door.  Cassian stood on the other side silently wrestling with Azriel.  It appeared Azriel had been holding him back from the door by the hold Cassian was trying to escape.

“Feyre needs her rest.  I’d prefer you not wake her up with another loud intrusion,” he spoke quietly and both of his brothers stopped to look at him.  He saw Cassian take in his nudity and quickly advert his gaze.

“Did you pull any stitches?”  Cassian whisper demanded.

“I believe the ruling was I was not to engage in sex, not that I couldn’t use my right hand,” Rhys raised an eyebrow at his brother.

“There is no way you can get her to make all of that noise with one hand,” Cassian’s jaw was slack.

“Just because you need a number of toys and tricks to get your dates to want to come back doesn’t mean Rhys does,” Feyre called out from the bed.  “Now, get out or I’ll start going into detail about exactly how skilled my husband-to-be is.”

Rhys watched Cassian glance between a well covered Feyre and himself before Azriel pulled him away.  There was a moment, before they went down the hall again, Rhys believed Cassian might actually ask for those details as he seemed to be in complete disbelief.  He’d gladly tell Cassian exactly how to please a female if only to scandalize him a little more.  But for now, he closed the door and turned back to Feyre, marveling in the fact she had used the word husband.

On Sunday morning Rhys woke well before Feyre for once.  He slipped from the bed while she cuddled further into the pillows, left her a note, and slipped from the house.  He had somehow made it past a sleeping Cassian and he thought he might get all the way to his car but Azriel was already there, leaning against the hood of his sports car with his quiet smile.

“Where are we going?”  He asked.  Rhys only grinned and shook his head.  He hadn’t tried to sneak out the past week because he couldn’t just leave Feyre when she was vulnerable, but he also knew his brothers were difficult to escape.  Cassian could be bypassed if he was asleep, but Azriel… the man had to have informants in the shadows for how he was always prepared and ready to go.

“I thought I’d get Feyre some flowers and bring back breakfast,” Rhys explained.

“Any particular flower shop?”  Azriel raised an eyebrow likely already knowing what Rhys had in mind.  A small flower shop in the southern area of Prythian, owned by Feyre’s own sister.

Azriel took the driver’s seat before Rhys could try and he resigned himself to the passenger’s seat.  At least Azriel was the perfect company for this.  He was quiet and wouldn’t intervene unless necessary.  Cassian and Mor would likely attack the poor girl, physically.  Amren would just glare her down like she might eat her.

It took nearly twenty minutes to reach the shop and Rhys was aware immediately at how it stood out like a gem amongst the chain stores all around it.  Azriel followed him inside as he walked past a counter of chocolates, past various potted, green house plants for sale, and past the cooler of various flowers and premade bouquets to the counter where Feyre’s pretty blonde sister sat by herself.

“How can I help you?”  She asked, looking up at him.  He immediately noted the less than half hearted attempt at a smile, the slightly glazed look in her eye that looked far too much like how Feyre had been the last week, and the way she held herself rigid as if she might crumple to the ground if she didn’t.

“I’m looking for Elain Archeron, is that you?”  He asked knowing full well he was correct.

“Please, I can get the money.  Just give me a few days,” Elain pleaded, her voice breaking.

“Money?”  Rhys looked to Azriel who shrugged.  Apparently, he didn’t have the information on this one either.  A rare occurance.  “I was looking to order a bouquet for delivery, and to speak with you.”

“Oh,” she breathed out.  “I’m sorry.  Let me just get my book.”

“Is everything alright?”  Rhys asked, feeling some need to protect her despite what she had done to Feyre.  He recalled Feyre’s words about her sisters.  Nesta was the cold heartless one.  Elain was just one of those people that made you want to keep her safe from the horrors of the world because she saw so much good in it. 

“I’m sorry.  My fiancée- my ex-fiancee, somehow put all of the bills in my name for the wedding we were supposed to have in a few weeks.  I’m trying to keep up with the payments but it’s been a struggle.”  Elain twisted a ring on her finger as the words sunk into Rhys’ mind.  Her wonderful fiancée she was utterly in love with and had been gushing over a wedding with, had dumped her and left her with the bill.

“Why would he leave such a beautiful lady?”  Rhys asked.

“He said I lied to him.  That I withheld that my sister, my youngest sister was dating some ‘half breed mongrel’, whatever that means.  It would look bad for his father,” tears started to form in her eyes.  “I haven’t even seen my sister since our father died.”  Elain shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” Rhys pressed a hand to his heart and meant it.  He was the reason her marriage had fallen through but perhaps that wasn’t a horrible thing if something that simple had ruined everything.

“Why are you sorry?  It’s not you’re fault.  If anything, Nesta, my older sister, said it’s my younger sister’s fault for disgracing herself with some poor foreigner lowlife.”  Elain lifted a heavy book onto the counter and started to open it.

“Perhaps I should explain why I am sorry,” Rhys felt his own cheeks burning more with rage than shame at what had been said about Feyre.  “I’m looking for a very large and expensive bouquet for my fiancée.  Her name is Feyre Archeron and I’m the half-breed mongrel that gave your now ex a shitty excuse to hurt you.”  Rhys waited for a moment.  A long moment.  And then Elain’s hands came up to cover her mouth as the words fully sank in.

“Oh!” Was the only thing to escape her mouth for a long minute and then she blushed deeply.  “I can’t give a discount because it’s my sister,” came the quiet response.

“Mr. Rhysand Nox is not looking for a discount.  He came here looking for a bouquet for his soon-to-be wife,” Azriel stepped in.  Rhys and Azriel both watched Elain’s eyes go wide once more before Rhys took the book from Elain and flipped to the most expensive section.  “There, that one.”  Azriel pointed to one full of dark but vibrant purples and blues.  “She’d probably want to paint it.”

“You’re right,” Rhys smiled.  “And perhaps that will save me from the berating I’ll get for buying them for her.”  He turned to Elain and took a pen and paper from in front of her.  “This is the address of where they should be delivered.  I’d like them there by 9 AM.  We’re going to have a long day and it will be nice to give her something to smile at.  Someone at the front desk will have security escort your delivery person to the executive floor to have them delivered.”

Rhys looked around once more at the small shop.  It was cozy, homey, and bore the simple name _Elain’s_ on a sign behind the counter that matched the one outside.  Feyre was correct, it was the kind of shop Velaris would protect.

“I suppose I shouldn’t come home empty handed today.  Can you make me up something beautiful to bring her?  No red and no roses,” Rhys pressed.  “We can wait.”  Elain simply nodded.

It only took a few minutes and the arrangement was beautifully done.  Elain was truly talented.  As talented as Feyre was with a pen or paintbrush. 

“The full cost for the delivery tomorrow and this bouquet is two hundred and three marks,” Elain told him, a bit of skepticism in her voice.  But it disappeared when his charge card when through. 

“Perhaps I should set up weekly deliveries.  Let her always have something beautiful in her office,” Rhys stopped to pick up a business card.  “Is that possible, Ms. Archeron?”

“Yes,” she breathed out.

“Then let’s do that.  I don’t care what you send so long as it’s beautiful, has few to no roses, and avoids red,” Rhys smiled.  “I want it similar in price to the one I’m having delivered tomorrow.”

“She’s going to kill you,” Azriel laughed as they aimed for the door.

“She hasn’t called me ‘Prick’ in at least a week.  I’m starting to miss it,” Rhys chuckled back.  “And this gives her something to complain about that isn’t my recent accident or the amount of work I’m about to drop on her after the press conference tomorrow.  Now let’s go find breakfast.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Velaris goes public and the Archeron sisters reappear.

Rhys was deep in writing his press speech and press release the next morning in his office when the elevator door chimed at exactly 9 AM.  His own door was wide open, an invitation for Lucien or Feyre to come speak with him despite him being busy.  Feyre herself was in her own office working through the notes of the meetings Azriel and Mor had had in her place while she had been gone an extra week. 

“I’m looking for a Feyre Archeron,” came the awe filled voice beyond the door and Rhys looked up.  It was Elain delivering the bouquet.  Lucien seemed to be at a dead loss for what to say as he stared up at the pretty woman.  Rhys spared him and walked to the door.

“Feyre’s office is this way,” Rhys waved her toward him and started to lead her down the hall.

“What does Feyre do here?”  Elain asked.

“She’s one of my top executives,” Rhys shot over his shoulder.

“But Feyre never really excelled in school.  How can she have such a position?”  She asked.  Rhys stopped dead and turned to look at Elain.  It wasn’t the malicious stare down he had had with the viper of a sister.  No, Elain was genuinely curious and lacking in understanding of what she had done to her sister.

“Feyre failed to thrive in a school system that was no equipped to handle someone with a learning disability, a common one at that.  If she had attended your fancy school, they would have caught it.  It doesn’t mean she is stupid or incapable.  She is exceptionally intelligent in ways I could only hope to be.  Now, excuse me,” he took the bouquet from her hands and walked to the end of the hall where the door was open only a few inches.  “Delivery for the most beautiful woman in the world!”  He announced as he pressed the door open with a hip.

Feyre’s eyes came up off of her reports and then narrowed in on the flowers.

“Flowers?”  She asked after a moment.

“For my beautiful fiancée and the woman that I’m about to make hate me with all of the work I’m about to give you after this press conference.”  He placed the vase on her desk and bent to press a kiss on her temple.

“I don’t need flowers, Rhys,” she blushed.  “You don’t need to spend money on things like that for me.  And you got me some yesterday.”

“You don’t need them, but I want to give them to you,” Rhys explained.  He had suspected several times over that Feyre had gone far too long without knowing how to spend money on herself, on things she wanted.  She had gone too long having to conserve her money for things she needed to survive and any excess was saved for when that would disappear.  Despite being exceptionally wealthy now, she hadn’t bought herself new clothes.  She hadn’t gone out and bought jewelry that he hadn’t given to her.  And she certainly didn’t buy trinkets or decorative things.  The only thing she spent money on for herself was for her painting and even then, he knew she was conservative about it.

Not that it was a bad thing she was good with money.  He could use someone in his life that didn’t hemorrhage marks as they saw fit.  But someone had to show her she could afford, and would always be able to afford, to give herself a few simple pleasures.  He could afford to buy her expensive bouquets every day for the rest of her life and still live comfortably.  Part of him wanted to, just to prove it to her.

“The press conference is at 11,” he reminded her.  “I’d like you by my side.”

“Why else would I get all dolled up?”  Feyre teased.  She was no more dolled up than she would have been any other day for work but it gave him an excuse to look her over, his eyes lingering on the straining buttons of her shirt. 

She had mercifully put on weight since these had been bought for her when she had first started and it was starting to show in how her curves fought against her clothing.  He would have to find a delicate way of suggesting new clothes without commenting on how tight these ones were.  Feyre wasn’t normally irrational, but he always tread lightly on trigger topics for most people, weight gain no matter how healthy it was being one of them.

“I love you,” she stood and pressed a kiss to his mouth.  “I really don’t need flowers, but you could always come give me a few kisses and a cup of coffee.”

“I can do that too,” he gave her a long kiss.  “Now, back to work, Darling.”

“Prick,” she laughed and took her chair back.  Rhys grinned at her for a moment before he tore himself away and retreated to the hallway, but not before he caught her eying the flowers once more and heard another muttered ‘prick’.

Elain was still in the hallway, apparently having watched their whole exchange.  Her doe eyes were fixed on Feyre at her desk even as Rhys closed the door most of the way.

“If you do not have a delivery person other than yourself, you are welcome to leave the flowers at the front desk next time,” Rhys told her.  Her eyes snapped to him, they were lined in silver and he had the feeling she might start to sob.

“She doesn’t want to see me?”  Elain asked, her voice choked.  Rhys took her elbow and steered her down the hallway away from Feyre’s door.

“I was under the impression you didn’t want to see her.  Since you abandoned her after your father’s death and left her to be homeless.  Since you haven’t given a shit about her since then.  Since you let her work herself to near death before then.  Since you thought shopping would be a better use of your time than burying your father when she finally had the funds to do it.  Since she saw you in your wedding dress and heard you talking about how everyone important would be there to see you married, and she hadn’t heard a damn thing about it.  Since I bought your wedding gown in her name and you didn’t even bother thanking her.  Have you ever thanked her for what she’s sacrificed for you?”  He stared her down.  “I ordered from you because Feyre was contemplating getting our wedding flowers from you.  She still wants to support her family though they haven’t ever supported her.”  He growled and snapped his eyes to Lucien who watched with wide eyes.  “Feyre could use another cup of coffee, and anything sweet you might be able to round up.”

“Yes, Mr. Nox,” Lucien stood and went to make a cup of coffee for Feyre. 

When Rhys looked back to Elain she was booking it for the elevator, sniffling as she went.  He doubted anyone in their life had ever yelled at her.  Certainly not Feyre or Nesta or her father.  He doubted anyone had called her out before.  But he didn’t doubt she was about to call Nesta and report what he had said.  And he didn’t doubt he’d be hearing from Nesta soon.  Feyre had said Elain had always been protected by Nesta or herself.  Since Feyre didn’t know that Elain had been there or that he had yelled at her, or rather, had given her a few damned simply truths.

“Was that Elain?”  Feyre’s voice came from the hallway behind him and Rhys turned ready to face down Feyre’s wrath of him making her sister cry.

“I ordered the flowers from her shop,” he admitted, bracing himself.

“What did you do to her?”  Feyre breathed out, her eyes on the elevator.

“She said some things, so I said some things back, and I didn’t sugar coat my words,” Rhys took a step towards her a stopped.  Feyre was already walking towards him, closing the distance.  He expected to get slapped or have her scream in his face, but instead she wrapped her arms tight around him and buried her face against his chest.

“Thank you for the flowers, you giant Prick,” she murmured.  “And good luck dealing with Nesta.”

“Did you need something?  Coming out here to ask my input on something?”  Rhys turned her towards his office.  He doubted she had come all the way down to thank him for the flowers since she had already done so.

“Coffee, I came down for coffee,” she pushed him away.  “I’m still working through things Az and Mor accomplished without me.  They already have a handle on things so I doubt I’ll need your advice on what they’ve already done.”

“Coffee right here, Feyre,” Lucien came over with the cup.  “Now tell me, is your sister single?”

“Engaged I believe,” Feyre replied.

“Not anymore,” Rhys cut in.  “Turns out her fiancé doesn’t like that you’re with me.  Big political issues.  Can’t be connected to anyone who dates, or is now marrying, a half breed.”

Feyre turned to him, disgust on her face and Lucien let out a low whistle.  For all the fact he was Beron’s son and his father was notorious about his heritage, his tanned skin was dark enough to suggest he might have heritage elsewhere.  Likely he had heard a comment or two about being a mixed breed as well.

“What a pathetic excuse of a human,” Feyre crinkled her nose.  “Perhaps it’s for the best though since he can’t love her enough to overlook her estranged sister’s choice in a relationship, even if his views are completely idiotic.”

Rhys grinned and her and pulled her in for another kiss.  He truly loved how accepting she was of him and his heritage.  Amarantha had degraded him for his coloring knowing he had been something she had deemed as ‘other’ though she hadn’t known he was Illyrian until Tamlin had told her.  Other short-lived relationships had had similar leanings or had liked him because he had looked exotic with his darker skin.

“Are you two going to be like this for the rest of my time here?”  Lucien complained.  “This lovey-dovey stuff is going to make me vomit.”

“Aim for the trash can under your desk,” Feyre replied, her face completely bland.  “Saves you from having to clean it up.”  Rhys only laughed and let Feyre take her coffee back to her office to work.  He waited until she was gone before he gave Lucien a happy smile.

“I hope we’re always like that.  I wouldn’t want it any other way.”  Then he retreated back to his office to finish his speech.

The press conference went off as well as could be expected.  He stood on the steps of Nox Industries with Feyre at his side and told the world about his company’s long secret history with Velaris and how they were now opening themselves up for small businesses and artists of all kinds to come to them.  He fielded questions from reporters and from anyone else brave enough to ask.  The majority of the questions were surprisingly about business and qualifications for Velaris Incorporated.  Only a few reporters dared to question his motives.  Rhys also took the conference as a moment to unveil Nox Industries’ new logo to which he gave Feyre all the credit.  She had blushed prettily.

“And Mr. Nox, what about the rumors of someone trying to assassinate you?”  A reporter called out when he was sure the press conference was about over.

“I believe assassinate is a strong word reserved for politicians.  Police are still investigating so I am not about to comment on an open case,” he turned to Feyre and offered her his hand.  “Thank you all for your time.”

Peace was a short moment, only long enough for them to eat lunch before calls started coming in to Lucien to start scheduling appointments with Feyre.  Some were scheduled right away that afternoon and Feyre spent the remainder of the afternoon in her office with a steady stream of potential new clients being shown in and out.

Rhys watched most of it as he went about his normal day.  He had one major meeting that had been rescheduled for his vacation and rescheduled again for his injury with Helion Day scheduled near the end of the afternoon.  It would be about how they might handle young writers reaching out to Velaris.  He knew Helion was actually a very decent man and suspected the man had a program in place for aspiring writers.

Shortly after Helion arrived at four and Rhys discovered he did indeed have a program in place they settled back to chat about business plans and how to best cooperate on this particular venture.  Helion was always looking for illustrators for book covers and Rhys knew several young artists had already found their way in that afternoon.  Then as it wound closer to five, they had started talking about his engagement and plans for the marriage.

At five, Helion excused himself to the restroom while Rhys started to pick up their scattered notes.  It had been a pleasant day for him and he hoped Feyre wasn’t too exhausted.  Cassian and Azriel had agreed only one of them needed to stay at the house until Thesan removed his stitches and fully cleared him.  There had been a fight over who would stay and Azriel had won.  It meant a quieter evening where he could sit on the couch with Feyre and cuddle up to a movie.

The elevator doors opened beyond the glass and Rhys stopped short of reaching for another stray piece of paper.  Nesta Archeron stood in his waiting area staring through the glass at him like a bull ready to charge.  Lucien took one look at her, and wisely bolted.  Then Nesta made her way into the conference room.

“Are you the asshole that made my sister cry?”  She spat at him.

“Which sister?  You do have two, in case you forgot,” he reminded her.  For a moment, he debated about how to position himself for this.  He could stand above her, assert authority.  He could sit in the chair like he meant to have a pleasant chat, which it wouldn’t be pleasant for either of them.  Instead he opted for a casual pose of leaning against the table, his arms crossed as he looked at her more unimpressed than anything else.  He had a feeling it would infuriate her further.

“You know which one!”  Nesta growled.  “Brought her in here for some flower delivery and then belittled her to tears.  Is that what you big shots do?”

“I asked for a delivery of flowers for my fiancée, Elain came when I expected a delivery person, and she then questioned my fiancée’s position here.  I took the delivery from her and expected her to go.  She didn’t.  When I finished delivering the flowers, I gave her directions for how to go about it for the next scheduled deliveries which I am tempted to pull since you came charging in here to scold me,” Rhys waved at her. 

It was an empty threat.  He wouldn’t pull those deliveries but he also wouldn’t let Elain up the elevators ever again.  But the threat had the desired effect on Nesta.  She started to question herself and charging into a situation without knowing everything.  He had no idea what Elain might have said to Nesta about everything, if she had said anything other than cry and point in his direction.

“When I mentioned to Elain she could leave the flowers in the lobby next time, she made it sound like she expected Feyre to want to see her.”  He saw that fire spark right back up in Nesta’s eyes at the mention of her youngest sister.  “I only replied at how your sister was treated in the past and how it seemed Elain, or even you, wanted nothing to do with her.”

“You broke up Elain’s marriage,” Nesta snapped finally.  “I told Feyre she would ruin things and she did, by fucking some half breed foreigner.”

“Miss Archeron, is that any way to speak to one of my business partners?”  Helion’s voice came from the door and Nesta actually paled slightly.  “Of course, I know you didn’t just call Mr. Rhysand Nox a half breed foreigner.  His blood lines run back further in Prythian due to his native blood than any single person trying to use that claim.  And perhaps you realize that my blood line comes from elsewhere,” he waved at his sun darkened brown skin.  “Is that how one of my more promising editors truly thinks?  Is she that prejudiced?  Should I be looking for her replacement?”  Helion’s eyes flicked to Rhys’.  It was a question to him.  If Nesta had truly offended him, Helion would fire her on the spot.  Rhys responded with a slight shake of his head.  He was fine and maybe Nesta wouldn’t be so quick to run to attack just anyone now that she had been threatened in a way that would hurt her.

“Don’t go near my sister again,” Nesta warned Rhys.  She didn’t run from the room, which he gave her credit for.  But as she walked out, stiff backed, he called after her once more, unable to help himself.

“Which one?  The one I’m engaged to or the one you think needs to be shielded from how she has hurt your mutual youngest sister?”

Nesta froze for all of a moment before she stormed to the elevator and Rhys was certain she might break the buttons for how hard she’d press them.

“I feel like there’s a story here that I want,” Helion pressed.

“Feyre will be up shortly, I don’t think she needs to hear any of it,” Rhys sighed.

“She was still with a client, talking about art.  It sounded like it might be awhile,” Helion moved to sit and Rhys resumed his seat. 

He started the story with how Feyre had dropped out of school to work to help her family survive and by the time he had finished by explaining what had been said to Elain that morning, Helion had shaken his head so much Rhys was sure it might pop off.

“She could write that and sell it as a novel.  Though people tend to be suckers for happy endings and I don’t see her having one with her sisters,” Helion admitted.  “Ah, and here’s the lovely lady now.”  He stood as Feyre came around the corner looking utterly exhausted but happy.

“Feyre, this is Helion Day.  He runs Day Publishing,” Rhys introduced them.  “Helion, this is my life, Feyre Archeron.”  He didn’t miss her eye roll but it was no less true.  She was his life.  He thought about her every moment of every day.  Wanted to be near her every moment of every day. 

“I look forward to working with you in the future, Feyre,” Helion smiled at her in a way that Rhys knew well.  He was trying to charm her a bit by the smile alone.  Perhaps open up the door one day to a threesome between them.  Rhys would have to warn her and see if that was even something she might consider to prepare himself for.  He didn’t want to share her, but he would if it was something she wanted to try, and Helion was a good man.  He would adhere to any boundaries set by either of them.

Rhys missed Feyre’s response but Helion was already dismissing himself and walking for the door.  Feyre waited until he got on the elevator before she sagged against the table.  “I’m tired,” she complained.

“So… not worth the extra work?”  He asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.  She slapped his arm playfully in response but even that lacked its usual effort.  “Let’s go home, get dinner, and cuddle on the couch.”

“I like the sound of that,” Feyre admitted.  She straightened from the table and took his offered hand.  They bid goodnight to Lucien and left before anything else could stop them.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding Dresses and Fluffy fluff

One long work week later, Rhys found himself happily wrapping an arm around an exhausted Feyre to steer her from the wreckage that had become her office.  All week she had been packed with meetings and had started ending every meeting with ‘We’ll get back to you’ as the paperwork piled up.  They had been taking some home, a few potential clients to go through every night.  Some needed immediate help.  Some were looking for future protection.  And some were just there to waste their time.  Several of them, Rhys suspected were sent by Hybern to scope out what they were doing.  Usually Azriel followed them up the elevator and sat outside of Feyre’s office for the moment they would leave or she would raise her voice even a little.  Rhys had left him to his work and had only checked on Feyre when Lucien would come back from giving her coffee and would give him a very specific look that told him he might be needed.

But now it was Friday evening and Rhys had convinced Feyre to leave the notes she had taken for the day behind.  He had dinner planned to celebrate the removal of his stitches and the removal of all restrictions on his person.  He had every plan to ravish Feyre properly to help her unwind, sleep far easier, and forget completely about work for the weekend.

“Rhys?” Feyre murmured his name as they got in the town car they had been taking since his accident.  It had been more for Feyre’s comfort than his own.  He still believed he could drive just fine, but Feyre had pleaded.

“Yes, Darling,” he pulled her in close, still loving how she fit perfectly against him.  It was a benefit of taking a town car that he had been loving.  He could cuddle Feyre all he wanted on the ride home.  He had to wait until they got home if he drove, and even then, he and Feyre often parted ways when they got home to strip themselves of work attire and get ready for a quiet dinner.  He usually had to wait until after dinner was cleaned up before he got her in his arms.

“I was thinking that tomorrow I can go to your mother’s shop and get my wedding dress sorted out,” she settled her head against her favorite place on his shoulder.  A place molded just for her.

“I’ll have someone take you,” he promised.  “Maybe Mor will want to go with.”

“I was actually hoping you would come,” she whispered.

“Me?”  He shifted her back to look at her face.  “You know it’s forbidden for the groom to see the dress before the wedding.  Bad luck or something.”

“I’d like your opinion.  You picked out that dress for the art gallery on our first date so you must have some sort of fashion sense,” she teased.

“You know I picked that gown out?”  Rhys demanded.  His cheeks flushed red.

“Well, you just confirmed it, but Mor couldn’t stop muttering about trying to find your designer someday as she helped me into it,” Feyre giggled and Rhys couldn’t help but smile.

“My mother made it,” he admitted.  “She made a lot of gowns even after marrying my father.  She gave me a few before everything happened, in case I ever met a woman worth wearing them.”  He couldn’t help the small bashful smile that crept to his mouth.  Feyre fit those gowns perfectly now.  Her body was perfectly the right size, just like her finger was the right size for that ring.  It was almost as if his mother had seen Feyre in his future.  Almost as if they were soulmates destined to find one another and his mother had somehow had the vision of them.

“She was very talented,” Feyre murmured, pressing a kiss to his jawline.

“She was,” he agreed.  “I’ll go with you tomorrow.  But I also want to take you shopping for other new clothes,” he braced himself.  Feyre drew back from him and looked down at her straining blouse and nearly too tight skirt.

“I’ve been meaning to do that,” she admitted.  “I guess I’ve put on some weight.”

“Healthy weight.  You’re healthy,” he pressed.  “And you look amazing.”  He smirked down at her knowing exactly how to steer her away from any negative thoughts about her body filling out to a far more womanly shape.  “But if you don’t get clothes that fit, one day those buttons are going to burst off that blouse and I’m going to have to jump you right then and there, regardless of clients or Lucien.”

“Hmm,” she gave him a wicked smirk back.  “Perhaps I’ll keep wearing a few of these around the house to see when that might happen.”

“I’d prefer you wear nothing around the house,” he purred.

“Azriel might object,” she stroked a hand down his chest.

“Azriel moved home this morning after I was cleared by Thesan.  He can’t say I can’t take care of myself if the world’s most talented surgeon clears me,” Rhys bragged.  It hadn’t been discussed at all actually.  Once Azriel had been informed of Rhys’ freedom, he had volunteered to gather his things immediately with a plea that Rhys not wake the neighborhood and get noise complaints called in on them.

Oh and he had plans.  He knew exactly how he wanted to start and how he wanted to finish.  He knew every position he would put them in in between.  He would give Feyre no reason to leave bed in the morning.  There was a chance they would need to delay their shopping until Sunday if his hopes came true.

“I beg to differ,” Feyre interrupted his thoughts.  He had to remind himself that Feyre was talking about him taking care of himself.  “I don’t know how they haven’t given you a keeper yet.”

“The Mother and the Cauldron did,” he gripped her hand and twisted it so he could see the star sapphire shining brightly back at him.  When he looked back up at Feyre’s face she was shining just as brightly, and he couldn’t help himself as he pulled her onto his lap to kiss her fiercely for the rest of the way home.

In the morning, Rhys was so utterly spent from the night before that he begged Feyre to stay in bed, but she hadn’t.  She had simply told him to get up whenever he was ready and she’d be about.  It took him three hours to drag himself from bed and pull on a pair of lounge pants to go search for Feyre.

She wasn’t in the kitchen though there was evidence she had been there.  Instead he found her in her studio, wearing one of her far too small blouses unbuttoned and nothing else as she painted.  The scene on the canvas was of swirling galaxies in the night sky over Prythian.  It was beautiful but Feyre was even more so.  He wished he was some sort of artist so he could capture the moment she glanced back at him over her shoulder, the blouse shifting down her arm at the movement.

“Are you awake now?”  She asked.

“I’m awake, and other parts of me are very awake by your current state,” he admitted.  “Perhaps we should get in the shower?”  He had visions of how the shower would go but most likely he would end up scrubbing the paint off her skin.  There was already a patch of dark blue running down her bare thigh and some very interesting splatters on her chest he could imagine would be quite satisfying to pay some attention to.

“Let me finish this area and I’ll be all yours,” she promised.

Rhys only nodded and waited.  He loved watching Feyre paint and even more so when she was practically naked in front of him.  She was so precise in how she moved her paint brush and she would bite her lip right before making the tiniest of strokes.

It took far longer than anticipated for Feyre to finish and for them to get out of the shower but eventually they found their way to his mother’s former dress shop.  The owner was happy to greet them and ushered Feyre straight into the bride’s section, giving a disapproving shake of her head when Feyre relayed that she wanted Rhys with her.

“Are you sure you want him to see you in the dress?”  She asked when Feyre repeated her request and beckoned Rhys to them.  “It goes against tradition and it’s fun to see the groom get all emotional when he sees you for the first time.”

“When I get to marry Feyre, it won’t be seeing her in a gown that will have me losing control.  It will be getting to call her my wife,” Rhys told the owner and gripped Feyre’s hand.  It had apparently been the right thing to say because Rhys found himself shoved into the chair near the bride’s pedestal while Feyre was taken around the store to find a dress.

Over the course of the next two hours, Rhys watched Feyre try on gown after gown in various styles but none of them were quite right.  Even she was starting to look crestfallen at the thought she might not find the dress in this particular store.  But then the owner disappeared into the back and came out with something that Rhys would not have thought was a wedding gown but rather a ball gown, though it was designed more along the lines of a wedding gown.

The dark fabric glittered as if it was made of thousands of dark blue crystals spotted with white like night sky.  The skirt wasn’t necessarily full, but it didn’t cling and gave the right amount of volume along with a short train.  The back was open and the front dipped just low enough to show the curve of her chest.

“It’s beautiful,” Feyre murmured as the owner took it out of the garment bag.

“It was the last gown your mother designed, Rhys,” the owner looked to him.  “She left it here thinking some unconventional bride might not want a white dress.  I scoffed at the time but, here she is.”

Rhys had no words to comment.  Nothing to say as Feyre was whisked into the dressing room, put in the gown, and paraded back out in front of him.  She beamed up at him even before turning to the mirror.  He knew in that moment she had made her decision.  She stroked her hands down the fabric reverently while the owner bustled about to find matching jewelry that she would normally use to help make the sale.  Rhys didn’t have the heart to tell her the sale was already made as a pair of diamond earrings were produced along with a glittering diamond necklace.

“Oh Feyre,” someone breathed out behind him and Rhys turned just as Feyre did to see Elain standing there, her wedding gown in her hands.  Rhys stood, about to tell her to keep whatever comments to herself, but Elain simply beamed up at Feyre.  “That looks like it was made just for you.”

Rhys kept his eyes on Feyre, waiting for any sign of unhappiness at her sister’s intrusion but Feyre seemed to simply glow a little more. 

“It’s perfect,” Feyre agreed.  “What do you think, Rhys?”

Rhys simply smiled at her.  In his mother’s gown, wearing her ring, looking just utterly beautiful in every way, he was certain his mother must have seen this moment in his future.  He stepped closer to Feyre and wrapped an arm around her waist to draw her in for a kiss because he certainly couldn’t help himself.

“Save it for the wedding night,” the owner chided him.

“Right,” Rhys pulled back and grinned up at Feyre once more.  “Shall we settle the bill?”

“You know I can’t charge you for something your mother made, Rhysand,” the owner placed her hands on her hips.  “She probably made it with whatever bride you dragged in some day in mind.”

“Then let me pay you for storing it all of these years,” Rhys changed tactics.

“Is there something I can help you with, Dearie?”  The owner turned away from him to Elain and Rhys knew it was likely a lost cause to argue.  He would argue, but more likely he would just send payment to the store.  He knew the account number thanks to them belonging to Velaris. 

“I know there’s a no return policy, but the wedding is off and I would rather just not look at this anymore.  Is there any way you can just take it back?”  Elain babbled as she followed the owner to the register.  Rhys watched them for all of a moment before Feyre turning back to the mirror drew his eye.  He stepped up onto the pedestal behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I’m glad you asked me to come along,” he murmured into her ear.  “I can’t wait to marry you.”

“Have we decided on a date yet?”  She asked, her pointed ear turning towards him.

“Last I remember, all we had decided on was something small,” he reminded her.

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?”  She turned back towards him.

“And I remember assuring you that I was,” he kissed her nose.  “Let’s buy this dress, go shopping for some new clothes that aren’t about to pop off of you causing an unnecessary scene for anyone witnessing how I respond, and then we can discuss how soon I can call you my wife.”

“Hypothetically, what’s the soonest we could marry?”  She asked as she pulled from his arms.

“Unfortunately, it’s the weekend so getting a marriage license is out until Monday, so… Tuesday.”  He watched her seem to weigh that option and then without a word, she disappeared into the changing room to take off the gown and pull her other clothes back on. 

Mother bless him, if she wanted to get married on Tuesday he was certain his family would try and shoot him.  Not that they would take a honeymoon immediately but for them all to have a day off of work it would be difficult, especially on such short notice.  And he knew Feyre’s next three weeks were already booked solid with back to back meetings.  Rescheduling any of it would be difficult.  But as Feyre stepped back out of the dressing room, the gown back on its hanger and began to meticulously place it back in the garment bag, he realized if she wanted Tuesday, he’d move the stars to make it work.

“Are you truly considering Tuesday?”  He asked as he followed her up to the register.

“Would it be a problem?”  She turned to quirk an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, I’d have to start making some calls tonight.  Throw my impressive name around to get things moving…” he knew in his heart she was playing once her eyebrow went up.  He knew she was trying to see if she could rattle him at all.  “And our family might want notice.  Preferably more than a couple of days.”

“You know Mor needs much longer than that to pick out a suitable dress, even if we do keep it small,” Feyre shot back.  “And we will still need to agree on a place.”

“Small details,” Rhys assured her.

“Well, perhaps we should spend the weekend working out some of these small details,” she smirked up at him.  “Since you can’t wait to marry me.”  Then her smile slipped down into something sweeter.  “And I can’t wait to marry you.”

Elain was waiting by the register as they approached it.  Her dress was gone from her arms and she was watching them.  Feyre gave her a sympathetic smile.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”  And it was true, Rhys realized.  She was being completely honest.  Even if her sisters had made her miserable and had taken the world from her, Feyre didn’t want them to be miserable.  She wanted them to be happy.  His selfless soulmate.

“I’m starting to see he wasn’t as good of a man as I thought,” Elain offered back.  “But I’m glad you found someone who can make you happy.”  She waffled for a moment.  “I never thanked you for buying my wedding dress.  So thank you.  I wish I could offer something in return.”

“There is something,” Feyre reached down into her purse and pulled out a card.  One of the cards Rhys had had made up with Feyre’s name, title, and the phone number to call to make an appointment with her.  “I wrote your meeting time on the back.  I was hoping to talk about your flower shop.  I tried to work around your store hours so hopefully you can make that time, but if you can’t call that number and reschedule.  I think there are some things we can do to help you build up your customer base.”

Elain took the card with a murmured thanks and left the store.  Rhys tucked his comments back until they were done arguing with the owner about the price of the dress and then had the dress secured in the car.

“I know she’s your sister,” he started.

“She is my sister,” Feyre cut him off.  “Sometimes she would ask for money from me to buy new clothes and then come home with paints for me.  It wasn’t much but I remember she might have been the only one to encourage me.”

“Alright, fine, but,” he started again and she gripped his face to pull him down for a kiss.

“Think objectively,” she pressed.  “If it was any other business in her situation, and don’t think I don’t know where those flowers came from so you know the situation.  You’d help her.”

“Up until Monday, I had planned to.  But between her and your other sister visiting on Monday, I lost the heart to want to help them,” Rhys admitted, and felt more guilt about it than he was willing to let on.

“I’m not saying we invite them to the wedding,” Feyre pressed.  “But I know Elain is talented at what she does.  She’s always been good with flowers.  She’d benefit us if we took her up under Velaris terms.”

“Fine,” he sighed, more guilt and shame eating at him.  He couldn’t let his personal feelings get in the way of this one.  “Let’s talk about anything else.  Like, perhaps, which boutiques you want to go into in this area to shop for new clothes.”

“I know just the place.”  Feyre hooked her hand through his and walked him right to the lingerie store he had had absolutely no intention of bringing her to that day.  By the time they walked through the doors, he was certain Feyre knew exactly what she was doing to him.  “My undergarments are starting to get a bit tight too.  I thought we’d start with those, unless you’d rather I shop for those alone…” she teased him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he promised her.  She truly would.  If his heart could burst from all he felt for her alone, she would be the death of him.  But he found himself pleasantly happy to discover it might be the best way to go.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hybern is still a pain in the behind and then some fluff

Rhys frowned at his computer screen.  It wasn’t the report that had come from accounting on Feyre’s investments.  She was doing amazing things.  Despite investing in nearly forty new businesses and artists in the last month along with supporting the businesses and artists they already had, Velaris was turning a much higher profit.  Her work had slowed only slightly as she worked hard to keep up relations with all of her clients and had started college courses with Azriel’s help.  He would have to celebrate with her at some point, but it would have to wait.

The other report that had been sent to him had been from Azriel.  It was Hybern.  It always went back to Hybern.  He hadn’t relented on his invasion into the Illyrian mountains.  He had deep enough pockets to buy out politicians that wanted the Illyrians gone.  They were on prime undeveloped land with plenty of untapped natural resources.  But the people there had been there for thousands of years.  It was their ancestral home and there was nowhere to really move them.

The politicians were fighting to take away the reservation status and force the Illyrians out.  Where they went, no one seemed to care.  Some had suggested that the Illyrians be forced to integrate into modern society.

The politicians on Rhys’ side were fighting back but Hybern was attacking the way he knew best.  He hit them in the purse strings and he threatened loved ones.  He did just as Amarantha had done and took hostages.  It was a battle Rhys would lose if he didn’t think of something fast.

“Hey, you got a moment?”  Feyre’s voice made him look up from his computer screen.  She was radiant as always.  Glowing more and more every time he saw her.  But now her glow faded a little as she looked him over.  “Something I can help with or should I not distract you?”  She asked.

“The answers to your questions in order are: I always have a moment for you, I don’t know, and you can always distract me,” he assured her.  “What can I do for you, Darling?”

“I think I found a wedding venue,” she blushed as she spoke. 

Rhys perked up at that.  After buying her wedding dress their talk of an actual wedding had slipped away.  He had taken the initiative in that time to buy his own wedding band.  Something plain and silver that he was happy to wear for the rest of his life.  Feyre had approved of it when he had shown it to her.  But talks of venues, dates, and all other details had gone out the window as soon as they had gotten busy again.  So he was surprised she had done any digging into finding a venue without telling him.

“I just had a meeting with a small place called the Starfall Gallery,” she handed over the pamphlet she had been twisting between her hands.  He looked it over quickly, noting the pictures of the ceiling draped with twinkling fairy lights amongst cityscape type paintings and pictures.  Pictures of small banquets and a dancefloor in the middle of the gallery had his attention and a picture of a ceremony space on a balcony overlooking a very pretty garden made him sure Feyre had found the right place.  It would hold a small ceremony and small party just fine.

“Clients?”  Rhys asked as he looked at the notes she had scribbled on the pamphlet.  None of them were their questions for Velaris, but if she had arranged a meeting with them during work hours they had to be potential clients.

“Actually, no,” Feyre blushed.  “Mor sent them a picture of one of my pieces and they want it for their gallery.  They were here to see if I was willing to put it up there and to discuss a price I might be willing to sell it at, and to discuss my other works.  The man brought brochures to try and convince me it was a decent place to display and sell my paintings.  I saw the wedding one and couldn’t help but ask about dates.”  She glanced up at him through her eyelashes.  “Is that alright?”

“Darling, it’s better than alright.  I think it will be perfect.  What dates are available?”  He felt all of his troubles slip away as Feyre beamed at him and rounded the desk to sit on his lap.  She produced a second piece of paper from her pocket with a full list of weekend dates spanning from three weeks from them through the next six months.  “Let’s do this one,” Rhys pointed to a Saturday almost exactly one month away.

“That should give Mor enough time to find a bridesmaid dress and someone can convince Cassian to brush his hair at least,” Feyre announced as she cuddled into him and sighed.  “I’ll give them a call before my next meeting to book the date.”

“Are you thinking of selling your art with them?”  Rhys asked.  He leaned back in his chair to pull her tighter against him.  It was exactly what he needed to let the stress of dealing with Hybern melt away. 

“I honestly have never considered any of my work good enough to sell,” she admitted.  “They have such beautiful paintings there.”

“I’m sure yours are better,” Rhys pressed a kiss to the top of her head.  “I mean, I’ve never considered displaying any other artist in my office.”

“Do you mean my art, or me?”  She wiggled her bottom against him, grinding against certain parts that were all too eager to respond.  

Images filled his head of laying her out on his desk and feasting on her, effectively putting her on display for anyone beyond the glass walls.  He could see just how sound proof the walls were by how loud he could get her to scream out his name.

“Both,” he groaned against her ear.  He went to bite her neck but a pointed ‘eh hem’ made him sigh.  “Five minutes,” he told Lucien who stood in the open doorway, likely reminding them that he was still there.

“While I’d love to disappear for far more than five minutes to avoid looking at whatever this was turning into, you have your next meeting in the Board Room waiting,” Lucien drawled and then turned to go to his desk. 

“We are going to finish this at some point,” Rhys told Feyre as she climbed off of his lap.  Perhaps he would stay late and convince her to stay as well to get her to try out some of his office fantasies.  He was no longer concerned that she might be afraid he’d do what Tamlin did to her or that he’d bring up horrible memories.  They had talked about some of the depraved things they had wanted to do at work and Feyre had been more than open to his admittance of wanting to bend her over a desk at least once.

“Finish what?”  Feyre asked, falsely innocent as she made her way to the door. 

Cauldron boil him, he wanted nothing more than to chase her down as her hips swished to one side and then the other far more intentionally than her normal sway on her way out the door.  He vowed to make sure she would be screaming his name at some point before they fell asleep that night and willed his body to calm down.  He had to at least appear professional even though it was quite likely the people he was meeting with saw him and Feyre at least sitting together.  When he was sure there was no visible evidence of his desire he went to start his meeting.

Meetings kept Rhys busy for the rest of the day which helped distract him from Feyre only enough that when 5 PM rolled around he practically ran to his computer to close it down for the night to not keep her waiting.  But the report from Hybern still pulled up on his computer monitor had him pausing.  He really needed to figure out what to do about all of that.  So he sat and reread the report while wracking him brain for a solution.

“Thank you, Lucien, I owe you,” Feyre’s voice reached him a while later.

“Introduce me to your sister the next time she comes through for a meeting and I’ll call us even,” Lucien’s voice replied.  “But showing me that restaurant might be enough to tide me over until then.”

“Good night, Lucien,” Feyre chuckled.  Rhys heard her come in and then an amazing smell hit his nose enough to make him look up.  Feyre was unloading a plastic bag of white Styrofoam containers on his desk.  He recognized all of it as Sevinda’s.  “I thought dinner might be in order while we work on whatever has you rubbing your temples so,” she explained as she pulled a chair closer to the other side of the desk.

“Hybern,” he told her.  “I’m not sure I can win this one.”

“There’s a way, Rhys.  We will find one together,” Feyre promised him.  “Now eat and tell me what I need to know.”

Rhys smiled at her as he dug into one of his favorite dishes.  Feyre was already starting on her own and there were at least two other containers telling him she expected to be there long enough for them to get hungry again or for others to join them.  He truly hoped it was neither of those things.  When he was a good way through his food, he started to explain what the report said. 

By the time he was done explaining, Cassian and Azriel had found their way up and had pulled chairs over as well.  As much as Rhys didn’t want them there, he knew they would make things go far quicker.  Four heads were better than two in some cases and this one was definitely one of those cases.

“Anyway we can locate those hostages?”  Rhys asked Azriel.

“Spirited away to Hybern,” he sighed.  “I couldn’t touch them there if I tried.”

“I suppose announcing he has hostages would cause harm to those hostages,” Feyre murmured with a shudder.  Rhys wished she wasn’t across the table from him.  He wanted to chase away the memories that plagued her from Amarantha.

“Why announce he has them in the first place?”  Cassian asked.

“To point out he’s not the kind of businessman we want invading Prythian,” Feyre shrugged.  “I’m not a corrupt politician but if I were in politics I would worry when he’d disagree with me next.  Live in fear of when he might discover my family.”

“Set that about, quietly,” Rhys told Azriel who only nodded.

“Has there been progress with law enforcement on who shot you?”  Cassian asked Rhys.

“No.  Despite all of the evidence pointing elsewhere, they are going with an accident,” Rhys relayed what had been told to him only a week before.  He knew it wasn’t an accident and anyone who truly looked into the case did as well.

“They said they think it was a stray bullet from a hunter,” Feyre growled.  “As if hunters used sniper rifles.”

“Or if anyone actually used guns in Illyria,” Cassian grumbled.  “Can we just hire our own hitman?  Take Hybern out for good?”

“He’s got plenty of minions trained up to take his place,” Rhys murmured.  “Twin niece and nephew already running most of his business in Hybern for him, and others he likes to favor from time to time.”  Like Amarantha, but he wouldn’t say that name out loud.  Not for his own sake or for Feyre’s.

They talked over ideas ranging from plausible to completely ridiculous for the next two hours until Cassian and Azriel decided it was time to leave and Rhys was left alone with Feyre once more.  He typed up the ideas that he thought might work while Feyre cleaned up the remnants of dinner.

“You know, I was hoping to keep you here late tonight but none of this is what I had in mind,” Rhys confessed when Feyre came back to sit by him again.

“What did you have in mind?”  She asked, her head tilted just slightly to the side.

“Well, see, you started something earlier and I couldn’t help but come up with some plans for how we might finish that something…” he reached over to pull her from her chair to his lap. 

“Did it involve this chair?”  Feyre asked, already a little breathless.

“I was hoping you might be open to letting me bend you over the desk,” he pressed a kiss to her neck.  She stilled for a moment and Rhys cursed inside of his head.  Feyre had been open to the idea before but perhaps that had been when it had been a probability and not something about to actually happen.  He was about to back peddle and suggest something else but then Feyre stood from his lap and turned to look at him, her eyes hooded.

“How do you want me?”  Her voice had taken on the sultry tone he absolutely loved hearing.  It always sent blood coursing through his body straight to his length. 

“Can I take control?”  He asked softly, despite the demands his body was making.  He choice.  It would always be her choice. 

Feyre gave him a feral smile looking far more like a predator than prey.  “If you want control, come take it.”  And with those words, he unleashed himself on her.

It was light streaming through the windows and a knock on the door that had Rhys waking up in the morning.  He opened his eyes to realize he wasn’t in bed at home but asleep on the couch with Feyre in her office.  Neither of them were clothed at all but one of them had had enough sense to lock the door and pull the blanket from the closet. 

“I swear if you two are naked when I open this door!”  Cassian called from the other side.

“Then don’t open it and save yourself the trouble!”  Feyre called back and turned over in his arms to nuzzle in against his neck.  He felt her lips pull into a smile as they heard fake retching noises on the other side of the door.  “I suppose we have a problem,” she sighed when he was just about to fall back asleep.

“What would that be?”  He was fairly certain there was nothing wrong at all.  Feyre was naked in his arms and he was comfortable, nothing was possibly wrong.

“Well, you have meetings today and I have things I have to do.  Yet we are probably already late to do any of them.  I’m pretty sure all of my clothes from yesterday are in your office and I have no spare clothes in here,” she pointed out.

“Right,” Rhys sighed and pushed himself up.  The clock on the wall read early enough that he wasn’t concerned about missing too much of their morning already.  It was also early enough that he could make a call.  Cassian was unreliable but Mor wouldn’t balk too much if he made some requests.

He got off of the couch and went to the phone to call Mor’s cellphone.  As he suspected, she wasn’t at work yet and could easily swing by the townhouse to pick up clothes for the two of them.  When he was done on the phone he turned to Feyre and smiled at her, his clothes were in his office too.  Neither of them were quite daring enough to go running to his glass walled office to retrieve them either so for the time being they were stuck in Feyre’s office, naked, together.

“Whatever shall we do with this time?”  Rhys asked.

“What do you have in mind?”  She raised an eyebrow at him. 

“A few things,” he reached for her and pressed her back down against the couch as he moved to join her.  “But I’m thinking exhausting you further is bad for my business.  So I should be a good boss and let you rest.” 

“A good boss would double my salary for all of the extra duties I performed for him last night,” she teased as she settled back in against his shoulder.

“Don’t tempt me, Feyre Darling, unless that’s what you actually want,” Rhys threatened.  He would double her salary.  He hadn’t truly raised it much after she had taken her new position though he should have.  He would probably give her anything she asked for.  If she asked for the stars, he’d find some way to get them for her.

“Better yet, pay your cleaning crew better since they have to deal with whatever mess we left behind in your office,” she gave a small yawn and resettled back where they had been before he had had to call Mor for their clothing problem.  “I get payment enough when you’re inside of me.  Wake me when Mor gets here.”

“Of course, Darling.”  He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.  He doubted they would be spending much time sleeping in Feyre’s office in the future but Rhys decided that it would be best if they brought an overnight bag to stash in her office closet for emergency purposes.  He was sure it would be needed at least once in their lifetime he hoped to have together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie. Pregnancy brain is kicking my butt so writing is getting harder as I try and connect dots. I'm going to try and keep consistent in updating.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding Time

Rhys paced the living room of his townhouse and looked down at his watch once more.  Dressed in his tuxedo and immaculately groomed, he had been ready to leave for the wedding venue for nearly two hours.  But they weren’t leaving yet.  In fact, they weren’t leaving for another hour.  Another hour before he could see Feyre and he had been without her all the previous night.

  
It hadn’t been their plan to be separated before the wedding.  They had planned to spend every last minute of it in each other’s company but his family had had other plans.  They had separated them coming out of work and had all but kidnapped Feyre.  His brother had stuck to him like burrs to keep him from chasing down Mor and Amren as they had spirited Feyre away, presumably to Mor’s apartment.  Then his brothers had insisted on a night out to celebrate the end of his bachelordom.

  
What had been a few drinks and several toasts by a rather loud Cassian had sparked a media swarm.  Rhysand Nox was getting married.  Now it was being broadcast on every news station along with speculations on why they had kept it secret.  Nosy individuals called in their answers ranging from the bride being an escort he had somehow knocked up to some arranged marriage to a daughter of a business partner. 

  
Rhys had been listening to them all day wishing that Feyre wasn’t.  He knew for certain that no one knew the location of their wedding.  The Starfall Gallery was never mentioned in any speculations on where they might be saying their vows.  It seemed no one they were paying for services for the evening had talked to the media even without a gag order.  Not Elain who had single handedly done their flowers.  Not Sevinda as she did their catering.  Not the musicians they were paying to play for them or the bakery their cake was coming from.  And certainly not Amren who was officiating the entire thing as a personal favor to them.  

  
“Will you sit down?  You’re going to be too tired to dance with your bride at this rate,” Cassian teased as he poured scotch from a crystal decanter into three crystal tumblers.  “It was only a matter of time.”

  
“As our viewers have been dying to know, we have had a break in the story regarding who the outrageously wealthy business tycoon Rhysand Nox is marrying.”  The reporter on the television spoke and drew Rhys’ attention back to the screen.  “An anonymous caller has reported the bride is none other than Mr. Nox’s former personal assistant turned executive of Velaris Incorporated, Feyre Archeron.  One can only assume Miss Archeron is after Mr. Nox for his money.”  A picture of Feyre, one taken without her knowledge of her out to eat with someone that had been cut out of the shot, flashed up on the screen along with the words ‘Gold Digger’.

  
“Lies,” he spat at the screen.

  
“They will find out soon enough,” Azriel assured him.  “It’s clear how devoted you two are to each other and you know the media is just looking for a story.”

  
“And they are likely just mad you didn’t share every single detail with them.  You know how they like to report on the dress, the flowers, the venue, and have exclusive access to the whole thing like you are some sort of celebrity,” Cassian snorted.

  
“I want to go now,” Rhys informed his two brothers.  He wanted to be there when Feyre arrived.  He wanted to be there to help her out of the car and then never let go of her.  Screw walking down the aisle separately.  They could walk together.

  
“We don’t need to be there for another hour, Rhys.  Even then we will still beat the girls there.  They need to primp,” Cassian teased.

  
“We need to primp far less than Rhys does,” came Mor’s voice from behind them.

  
Rhys whipped around and faced her to see she was standing in the bridesmaid dress she had picked out.  Something red and scandalous in a way that would make her father scream if he ever saw her.  Despite the outrageous amount of skin showing, she looked absolutely gorgeous.  Rhys made a mental note to comment on it, but he had other pressing matters.

  
“Where’s Feyre?”  He asked when he realized his bride wasn’t right behind her.

  
“In the limo waiting for her husband,” Mor smirked at him.  “I’ll ride with these two.  And don’t mess up her hair and make up.  I spent hours on getting her perfect.”

  
“She was already perfect,” Rhys called over his shoulder as he made his way out the front door.  

  
The limo was parked outside and the driver was waiting for him.  A driver he knew and trusted.  And inside the limo was Feyre looking utterly divine in her gown.  Somewhere in his mind he did heed Mor’s warning to not make a mess of Feyre’s hair and make up as he pulled her onto his lap and pressed a searing kiss to her collarbone.

  
“I never want to spend the night apart again,” he told her.

  
“Did you sleep well?”  She asked, her own arms enclosing around him.

  
“No,” he admitted.  His night had been filled with nightmares.  He had witnessed Feyre’s neck being snapped again and again and heard her pleading voice when she had all but begged him not to die.  Every moment of terror they had experienced together had played out a thousand different ways and he hadn’t been able to hold her and assure himself whenever he woke.  

  
“I’ll make it better tonight,” she promised.

  
“How did you sleep?”  He asked when the limo started moving.

  
“Not very well.  On top of nightmares, Mor snores and I’m fairly certain Amren doesn’t sleep at all.”  He felt Feyre shudder in his arms.  "I swore she was watching all night."  
“I’ll make it better tonight,” he parroted her promise back to her.  “I promise you’ll be too exhausted to dream at all.”  He pressed a promising kiss to her pulse point and she let out a low moan that almost undid him.  But he needed to keep somewhat in control for now.  Maybe somewhere at the gallery they could sneak away together for a few minutes to ease some tensions in both of their bodies.  But until then…

  
“Have you been watching the news this morning?”  Feyre asked.

  
“Unfortunately,” he sighed.  “I’m sorry my forced bachelor party caused this.”

  
“I honestly don’t know how they weren’t aware.  It’s not like we’ve been completely secretive,” she shrugged in his arms.  “I mean, I’d prefer they weren’t at our wedding but with high profile guests like Tarquin, Helion, Kallias, and Thesan, you would think someone would have tipped them off.”

  
“Tarquin doesn’t like all of the extra attention,” Rhys reminded her.  “Helion is a good friend who won’t sell us out.  Kallias prefers his privacy.  No one knew when he married Viviane.  In fact, most of Prythian isn’t aware they are actually married still.  And I'm sure Thesan is hoping for the same courtesy when he marries his man eventually,” Rhys explained.  “And we’ve only hired Velaris people to put on our wedding, so I have no doubt there is a bit of loyalty there.”

  
“I’m honestly surprised Elain, or by extension, Nesta, didn’t report anything,” Feyre sighed.

  
“Someone said something.  You may have missed it on the drive over but they at least have your name now.  The media isn’t exactly painting you in a pretty light.”  He didn’t want to admit it, but he had to.  She had to know.  She deserved to know how she was being spoken about.

  
Feyre pulled out her phone from a purse on the seat next to them and clicked on one of the apps.  A few clicks later both of them were able to listen to the latest news broadcast.

  
“We are being asked to retract our statements against Miss Feyre Archeron.  It would seem that we have misspoken about her intentions with Mr. Nox.  We apologize to them and any family that might be watching the broadcasts.  May they enjoy their wedding.  That is all.”

  
“Amren,” both of them spoke at the same time.  There was no other person in the entire world that could make the media stop gossiping and realize they were getting close to slander.  Rhys hoped with that, that the entire matter would disappear but he was wrong.

  
As the limo pulled up outside of the Starfall Gallery, the doors were almost completely blocked by people with both cameras and video cameras.  News anchors started reporting the moment Rhys stepped out of the back of the car and offered a hand to Feyre.  How they had discovered where they were going to be was yet another mystery but it didn’t matter.  This wedding was happening whether the media tried to storm the place or not.

  
Feyre let him wrap a protective arm around her waist and she smiled up at him brightly.  The perfect picture of love between them as he couldn’t help but smile back at her.  This was their wedding.

  
“Guess we didn’t have to hire a photographer,” Feyre teased him quietly as they started through the crowd.  And with that, Rhys couldn’t help but laugh and press a kiss to Feyre’s lips.  He loved her humor.  He loved everything about her, in all honesty.  

  
Then the crowds drew back and Rhys felt two solid presences settle on either side of them.  Azriel had gone to stand next to Feyre and Cassian had become an imposing figure on his left.  Enough of a bodyguard detail to make the media swarm step back and allow them through to the front door where Elain was wringing her hands on the other side.

  
“I’m sorry,” she murmured when the door closed behind them.  “A customer saw the order slip on everything I was carrying out to the van this morning.  It had the address on it and your first names.  I don’t think they made the connection until that tip about Feyre was aired.”  She twisted her hands together.

  
“It was bound to happen,” Rhys assured her.  Then he smiled at Feyre.  “What matters is I get to marry this beautiful creature.”

  
“I’m not sure being called a creature is necessarily a compliment,” Feyre drawled and he smirked down at her.  He wasn’t sure what else to call her.  To call her human was far too drab for what she was.  She was something entirely different.  She was his light when everything was dark.  She was his wish come true.

  
“You’re my Stars Eternal,” he told her softly.

  
“My Night Triumphant,” she murmured back.  “The only reason I shine at all.”

  
He smiled at her and cupped her face to give her a kiss.  Mother Above, he could not get enough of this woman.

  
“Hey!”  Mor chastised them as she came through the door completely unhastled by the media outside though Rhys could still hear them clamouring.  She probably had enjoyed the attention and likely had done some sort of red carpet walk for them to show off her gown.  “Save it for the wedding.”

  
Rhys only grinned and gave Feyre one more kiss before he turned to look over the Starfall Gallery.  Elain and the planners at the gallery had truly outdone themselves though Rhys had paid them well enough to make his wedding splendid.  Feyre hadn’t asked for much by way of decoration so he had stepped in to give a few suggestions.  The entire place was dripping with deep purple orchids and little white flowers.  The ceiling was swathed in midnight colored tulle with the white fairy lights shining through like stars in the night sky.

  
And the paintings that now graced the main floor around the dance floor and tables, they had been chosen to compliment the theme.  Night skies from various artists over different scenery.  The one he loved the most was behind the head table where only he and Feyre would sit.  It was swirling black and dark blue with thousands of meticulously painted stars over a city.  The view was a familiar one and he already knew the F.A. that would dot the lower corner of the painting.  Feyre had asked his permission before taking pictures of the view from his office at night.  Instead he had taken her to the roof so she had had an unobstructed view.

  
He supposed that Feyre’s signature would likely change though he had promised her a thousand times over she could keep her last name.  She had waved off his worry because she had claimed no attachment to her last name.  And her career as an artist was new enough that she doubted anyone would know the different in one initial on the canvas.  Despite his assurances that he would be fine without her taking his name, he was beyond pleased she was taking it.  He couldn’t wait for her to see the new name plate outside of her office or the business cards he had ordered.  Even Cassian had told him he was far too giddy about those things.

  
"What do you think?"  Feyre asked coming up to his side.  He couldn't tell if she was talking about the painting or the venue itself but he had an answer that fit both.

  
"Perfect."  He caught her bright smile and pulled her in for another small kiss, earning them the sound of Mor gagging somewhere in the distance.  "Would Mor kill me if I asked you to slip into the restroom with me to enjoy a little alone time with you?"

  
"She's your cousin.  You tell me," she poked him in the chest.  He knew the answer but he wanted nothing more than to take her some place and at least kiss her silly, though their kissing tended to get carried away quickly.

  
"I can be careful," Rhys tried to promise, but he knew if any piece of hair fell out of place Mor would murder him.  "The photographer will be here soon and then we can get this wedding on the move."

  
"You sound like you want to get this over with," she teased.

  
"The formalities, yes.  I could have married you before a judge the moment you said yes and have been happy.  The real point of today is you and I are together."  He stepped closer to her to wrap a hand around her waist.

  
"Oh, that's perfect, hold that pose!"  Came a voice Rhys recognized only because he had been the one to meet with the photographer to hire him.  He obliged holding the pose.  "Someone get me the bride's bouquet!"  The photographer called.

  
After an hour of posing for pictures with both Feyre and his brothers and Mor, they greeted guests as they came in and then got ready to take their places.  Rhys refused to let Feyre walk to him down the aisle.  They were walking together.

  
Amren was not the sentimental officiant.  She simply got through the basics of the ceremony.  Then it was over and Rhys gave Feyre a searing kiss when directed by Amren until Cassian yelled at them to break it up.

  
They ate a traditional Illyrian meal provided by Sevinda and a cake painted up like the night sky.  Within minutes of the meal being over, Rhys was handing out business cards for both caterers.  After deciding to use only Velaris businesses they had stocked themselves with business cards for each and every single one they used.  Elain had left after the pictures had been done as she hadn't been invited to the wedding, but when Viviane asked about the flowers he was happy to give her Elain's number.

  
Perhaps there was a future of being on friendly terms with Elain.  Never as close as she should have been as Feyre's sister, but Feyre didn't seem to mind.  She was in thick with Viviane and Mor at the bar for part of the night, enough so that Kallias wandered over to Rhys to question if he should be worried.

  
"Probably," was the answer that Helion gave with a chuckle.  It earned a hearty laugh from Thesan, his partner, and Tarquin.

  
"Wait until she meets my cousin Cressinda," Tarquin added.  "She, and my cousin Varian, are helping bring in the new changes we've talked about.  I plan to bring them to our next big meeting."

  
"Speaking of, have you heard anything about Hybern," Helion asked.

  
"Now really isn't the time," Kallias interrupted.  "Let the man enjoy his wedding."

  
"We can discuss it all at the next meeting," Rhys assured his friend.

  
"Husband," Feyre wandered over.  The title she used made him feel utterly giddy and he couldn't help but give her a giant smile.

  
"Yes, Wife?"  He responded knowing all of the men were grinning at his back.

  
"I thought we were going to dance at our wedding.  Not stand around and milk the bar for all it's worth," Feyre chided.

  
"All night," he promised and bowed to offer her a hand.

  
"Save a dance for me!"  Cassian called after them as they made their wya to the dance floor.

  
"I'm going to step on his toes," Feyre murmured as Rhys pulled her body close to dance.  

  
"I doubt I'm going to let you go long enough for him to have a chance to have his toes crushed by you," Rhys informed her.

  
He did let her go, eventually, so she could dance with Azriel and Cassian, and then Helion, Tarquin, and Thesan.  Rhys himself danced with Mor, Cassian, and then Helion, the latter letting his hands stray slightly more on Rhys than he had on Feyre.  It didn't bother Rhys any and he saw Feyre chuckling in the corner whenever Helion's hands strayed to give him butt a firm squeeze.

  
Finally, finally, they were able to stumble to the limo amongst a few lingering members of the media.  Partially drunk and exhausted Rhys couldn't bring himself to care.  Instead he applied himself to thoroughly destroying Feyre's hair and makeup in the back of the limo with the intense kisses he had been dying to give her all night.

  
"You know," Rhys told Feyre as they pulled away from each other as the limo pulled up to the townhouse.  "Helion gave me and offer to come make our wedding night a little more interesting."

"And you didn't take him up on it?"  Feyre demanded.

"I figured I'd wear you out myself tonight," he laughed in response.  "Maybe another night.  I'm sure the offer will still stand tomorrow and well after."

  
Rhys tipped the limo driver as they got out and followed Feyre up to the front door of the townhouse.  They could have stayed in a hotel for the night or gone away to some resort to have a honeymoon, but as he scooped her up to carry her over the threshold and straight up the stairs to their bed, he couldn't help but love that they were home together.  But even this area wasn't left untouched.  Mor, or Cassian, or possibly even Azriel had left them champagne on ice and a bed completely covered in flower petals.

  
Rhys made Feyre wait as he checked for pranks from his family beyond the gift and only found a small note from Mor telling him she would have killed Cassian if he ruined their wedding night.  Only when he was sure the bed was safe and so was the rest of the room, Rhys deposited Feyre on the bed and proceeded to make her beg, moan, and scream until he had fulfilled his promise that she would be far too tired to dream and he was far too tired to have any worries other than Feyre being comfortable before he fell asleep.


	28. Chapter 28

They weren’t going to take a honeymoon.  Not yet, anyway.  Rhys had promised Feyre when things calmed down at work with Hybern that he would take her anywhere around the world she wanted for as long as she wanted.  She had informed him she had everything all picked out for when the time came but wanted it all to be a secret until then. 

Until then they had only planned on having Sunday to recuperate from the wedding before they returned to work.  Not that they needed to do much recovering.  They had both drank but neither of them had gotten completely drunk.  And their nightly activities hadn’t worn either of them out enough for them to forgo some morning activities that left them both exhausted enough to stay in bed for another few hours.  Or, at least, that was the plan.

Feyre was back asleep in his arms for only half an hour when Rhys heard the distinct sound of someone shifting on the other side of the bedroom door.  He heard it happen again and Rhys almost growled.  His family had promised them the day to themselves.  Had promised they could enjoy a day of being married without intrusion, but it seemed that was unlikely to happen. 

Rhys shifted only enough to grab his cell phone.  No messages were waiting for him warning him of the intrusion.  Ever since he had run naked through the house to get Feyre her ice pack the one time they had started texting whenever they had plans to come over.  It had become habit to check his phone on weekend mornings to see who exactly was invading his house.  But now there were no messages which led to one stray thought that stuck, someone was in his house that shouldn’t be there.

He supposed there was a chance that they had been followed home by someone after the wedding.  He hadn’t exactly been careful and watchful of people following him as he normally was, and understandably so.  But his security system should have gone off.  There should have been alarms blaring and his brothers alerted alongside the police.  An alert should have gone to his phone in case he was outside of his house when an intrusion happened.  And he knew he set the system up before he had taken Feyre up the stairs, hadn’t he?  Had he forgotten that in the excitement of being married to the most amazing woman?

Something tapped the door handle just enough for the slightest rattle and Rhys slipped out of the bed.  One eye stayed on the door handle to make sure it didn’t turn as he pulled on pants and a shirt.  He would only face an enemy naked if he had to, but there was no need to when they were giving him some sort of time.  Feyre mercifully didn’t wake as he pulled a slim case out from under the bed and opened it to retrieve a slim Illyrian sword and two Illyrian knives.  They had been gifts from his mother when he had been declared a warrior of the Illyrian Clans and had only ever come out to be cleaned, until now.

Slowly he crept towards the door to not disturb whoever was on the other side to give them warning.  As he settled a hand on the door handle, it occurred to him he probably should have woken Feyre if only to have her move away from what he was about to do.  But it was a little too late now.  He had to get the jump on whoever it was.  With a silent prayer to the Mother, he ripped the door open on silent hinges and froze.

No one was in the hallway.  He looked it up and down but no one was in the hall.  He moved down the hall on silent feet, a trained warrior stalking prey.  He checked behind doors as he made his way to the stairs.  As he checked a closet, he heard the distinct sound of the front door closing and the alarm system rearming itself.  He turned the corner to the stairwell and hurried down it and slowly turned a circle to see what had been done.  Then he lowered his weapon and cursed his family once more.

The living room was filled with wrapped boxes, ones that hadn’t been there the night before.  The dining room table was laid out with pastries and fruits that would keep until he and Feyre got to them.  There were balloons and banners congratulating them on their marriage.  And a card sat on the table.  He went to the card and opened it.

_Congratulations, you bastard.  I can’t believe you thought we’d leave you alone.  See you tonight for a family dinner, please wear clothes._

_-Cassian_

Rhys chuckled and set the card back on the table.  He started to turn, thinking of going to the kitchen to make them some fresh coffee when he felt a presence behind him.  Instantly he raised his sword again and whipped around to face the intruder.

“Is that any way to greet your wife, Prick?”  Feyre demanded, a good-humored smile on her face.  She had only pulled on a fairly sheer robe that left very little actually covered.  He also noted she didn’t seem the least bit phased by him holding a sword aloft along with the hilts of two daggers tucked into the waistband of his pants.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he informed her as he lowered the sword.

“Well, some barbaric warrior took my husband from me.  I was quite comfortable and then he was gone, so I thought I’d investigate,” she folded her arms in front of her, a piece of paper in her hand.  When she noticed his gaze on it, she gave him a feline smirk.  “I found this taped to our door.  It would seem one of your brothers felt a little more guilt than the other in this morning’s intrusion.”

She held out the paper and he saw an apology from Azriel from being unable to talk the family, and Helion, and Tarquin, and Thesan, and Viviane from this particular plan.  He chuckled and went to wrap an arm around Feyre to kiss her thoroughly.

“You’re not even slightly surprised to see me carrying a sword, are you?”  Rhys asked after a long moment.

“You warned me that first morning after we slept together that you’re a warrior of the Illyrian Clans.  And I’ve been informed all the warriors have swords and knives tucked around somewhere.  Azriel showed me his knife at one point,” she shrugged.  “You know, most people use guns to protect their home if they fear it’s being broken into if they have an actual weapon.”

“Where’s the fun in that,” Rhys teased.  “Let me put these away and then I’ll get us some coffee.  You go rest in the living room.”  He gave her a gentle push towards the living room but she barely moved.

“Trying to order me around already, Husband?”  She turned back to him.

“Trying to keep you rested for what I have planned after we tackle this mountain of whatever our family thought worth giving us,” he informed her.  And despite dinner with their family being forced upon them when they had been promised a day alone, he did have plans to keep Feyre up in bed most of the day.  He wanted to make sure she had plenty of reasons to never regret legally binding herself to him.

“What if I need you to have energy for what I have planned?”  She asked.  “You spent the morning making me scream and beg, why can’t I do the same to you?”  Slowly she dropped to her knees in front of him to give him an idea of what she had in mind.  Instantly he his pants grew tight.

“I need to go put these away.  I don’t want to accidentally hurt you,” Rhys nodded to the sword and knives.  He was impressed common sense was prevailing somewhere inside of him when all he could think of was Feyre’s talented mouth and hands working their magic on him.

“Then you should hurry,” she whispered, a wicked grin on her lips.

They didn’t get to the food until well after noon, but Rhys couldn’t actually complain.  For once he was completely sated to the point where even thinking about sex with Feyre didn’t have him ready for her once again. 

“Maybe we should take tomorrow off too,” Rhys mused when Feyre laid her head on his legs as she curled up on the couch next to him.  It was as far as they had gotten when the mountain of gifts had started to look even remotely appealing.  “Sleep in, rest…” he stroked her hair back half expecting her to purr with how her eyes closed and she leaned into his touch.

“We can go to bed now and deal with all of this later,” she gave a half hearted waved at the gifts.

“I would agree with you, but our family is coming over for dinner apparently,” Rhys sighed.  He hadn’t necessarily had a chance to tell her anything remotely coherent before this moment and that bit of news hadn’t been in Azriel’s apology.

“Text them and tell them not tonight,” Feyre groaned.  “Can’t I have one night with you to myself?”

“Give me a moment to get my phone, Darling, and I’ll relay your request,” he slipped out from under her, relishing in the soft groan she let out at the loss of him.  Never in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine he would one day have a wife who wanted to be around him as much as he wanted to be around her.

His parents had been happy together, but they hadn’t necessarily been physical.  He knew they shared a bed sometimes and his mother was always grateful to his father, but they weren’t truly in love.  He hoped his children could never say those words about him and Feyre if she ever granted him children.  Some part of him wished he could go back to the moment he had planned to jump to his death and tell his younger self that things would get better.  That the most amazing things were yet to come.  He almost wished he could have found Feyre sooner.  Could have offered her the leg up she needed to see her own value so much earlier in her still short life.

He reached his phone and pulled up the family chat.  There were already five messages in it telling him they were discussing dinner between the four of them and who was bringing what.

 _Can we reschedule to another night?  Feyre and I were hoping to have the evening to ourselves._   He hit send and hoped it wasn’t too late to cancel, but instead he heard the front door open and cursed.

“No, you bastard!”  Cassian yelled as he came in.  “You two can fuck later.  In fact, you have the whole rest of your lives to fuck.  Isn’t that what you two got married for anyway?”

Rhys rubbed at his temples for a moment before he realized Feyre was only wearing her very sheer robe still.  She’d have to come up and change into something, anything, that wasn’t so revealing.  As much as he loved her body, he didn’t really want to share that much of it with his brothers, or even Mor, who would appreciate seeing that much of Feyre, and really, he wasn’t sure what exactly Amren was into.

“I thought I told you two to wear clothes!”  Cassian’s loud voice carried up the stairs.  Rhys sighed and stole his much thicker robe from the bathroom to bring down to wrap around Feyre so she could retreat to change without giving more of a show.

Feyre was already halfway up the stairs when he reached her.  She had a look that promised Bryaxis would likely reappear in Cassian’s life sometime soon on her face as she climbed up.

“Just him right now,” she murmured as she came to his side.

“I doubt it will stay just him for long.  Get dressed.  I’ll try to see how much we can limit their time tonight,” he pressed a kiss to her brow and sent her up the stairs. 

“I don’t know what you two did all day,” Cassian told him as he entered the kitchen.  “If your gifts are all still wrapped and Feyre was half asleep on the couch.”

“Is there a reason we couldn’t wait for another night?”  Rhys asked, folding his arms as Cassian started to take over the kitchen completely.

“We wanted to celebrate you two being married as a family,” came the response.

“That’s what the reception was for,” Rhys reminded him.  “And the wedding, actually.  I told Feyre we could always go to the court house and make it official long ago when she said she wanted a small wedding.”

“Well, we want to celebrate with you.  You’re lucky we gave you the morning off.  Mor wanted to do brunch instead,” Cassian informed him.

“Feyre is very tired.  You know I wouldn’t ask to move a family dinner unless it was somewhat necessary,” he tried to reason.

“It’s no use, Rhys, I’ve been trying to get them to change their minds all day,” Azriel appeared.  “Here, something special to celebrate with,” he produced a chilled bottle of champagne that Rhys recognized as a very expensive brand that had to cost quite a bit.  “That’s for you two alone.  The others can drink this stuff.”  He set a box on the counter full of wine bottles.

“I’m going to ask that we limit this to dinner only.  No extended board games or movie nights,” Rhys finally declared.  He couldn’t get rid of his family that easily.  Once Cassian had made up his mind to a point even Azriel couldn’t reason with him, there was little anyone could do.  But he could set a boundary.  He could tell them it was just dinner.

“Dinner and watching you two open your gifts!”  Mor declared coming in.  “I’m so glad you two left them for us to see you open them!”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Rhys grumbled.  He certainly didn’t want to open gifts with his family in attendance though he knew wedded couples did such things.  He hadn’t warned Feyre that Mor was notoriously a bad gift giver and he didn’t want to open whatever Helion had sent with his family in attendance at all.  There was a very big chance it wasn’t appropriate for his family to know about.

“Oh, Feyre, you found clothes!”  Cassian teased.  “Tell Rhysand you want to open gifts and play fun games after dinner.”

Rhys glanced over at his beautiful wife to see she was indeed dressed, in one of his t-shirts and a pair of leggings.  She still looked utterly spent and very unimpressed with Cassian.

“I told Rhysand I wanted him to myself for the evening,” she told him. 

“You had him to yourself all day,” Cassian complained.

“Dinner and gifts, then we will go,” Mor promised Feyre.  “We just want to celebrate with you a little more intimately than last night.  And I can’t wait until you see what I got you!”  Mor slung an arm around Feyre and steered her out of the kitchen once more.  Rhys watched them go for a long moment before he turned back to see Azriel’s eyes also trained on the pair.

“She looks tired,” he observed quietly when Rhys raised an eyebrow at his brother.

“She is tired,” he replied honestly.  “It was our wedding night.  Most people take a week or more away from everyone after their wedding.”

“You two have been living together for a while now.  The only thing that’s changed is Feyre’s name and she now legally owns half of everything you do,” Cassian scoffed. 

“Again, I’ve been arguing with him and Mor all day,” Azriel cut in.  “Here, let’s break out the wine and Cassian will get dinner cooking.”  His brother steered him towards the living room where Mor was already helping Feyre sort through the gifts to get to the ‘good’ ones.

Amren arrived as soon as Cassian had dinner on the table.  Despite wanting a night alone together, Feyre happily settled into the family dinner at Rhys’ side.  She kept his hand in hers as much as possible and he was happy to oblige.  Then it was time to open the gifts and Rhys took a moment to pull Feyre in for a quick kiss and to whisper about whatever Mor saw fit to give them.

Azriel saw fit to give Rhys an exceptionally old bottle of scotch and Feyre a set of art books from various cultures around the world.  Cassian bought them, technically himself and Nuala and Cerridwen, several kitchen gadgets that they apparently just had to have.  Amren simply offered them both legal advice should a divorce happen, something Rhys and Feyre could both only chuckle over since neither of them believed that to be in their foreseeable future.  Mor somehow thought it was absolutely necessary to get them a complete bedding set with her face on it.  Pillowcases, sheets, and a comforter all sporting her smiling face.  Rhys knew it wasn’t a gag gift though it certainly felt like one.

Then they got to the gifts from the other CEOS.  Tarquin was giving them a two-week vacation at any of his resorts whenever they chose.  Kallias and Viviane had gotten them a rather expensive crystal wine glass set.  Thesan and his partner had given Feyre a travel kit for her art supplies and Rhys a new watch that certainly had to have been top of the line coming from Thesan himself.  And Helion… Rhys shuddered at the thought of opening Helion’s gift in front of his family but they insisted.

The entire box was filled with the contents of an adult toy store along with written and video instructions depending on the toy.  He couldn’t keep the blush that crept up the points of his ears to himself as Cassian and Mor all cackled at the sight of several rather large and strange looking dildos that were labeled ‘for her to use on him’.  Feyre, however, seemed to think the box was hilarious and Rhys didn’t doubt she’d have a fun time going through it to see if there was anything in there they would actually try.

“There’s one more gift,” Mor fished a forgotten card up off of the floor.  It wasn’t labeled to the two of them, just to Feyre.  She took it, confusion written on every feature of her face, and opened it.  Within two seconds she had snapped the card back shut and was excusing herself.  Rhys picked up the card before anyone else could.  He opened it to see a familiar handwriting on the inside of the blank card _Be Happy, Feyre.  –Tamlin_

“I think it would be best if you all went home,” Rhys breathed out.  He didn’t wait to see if they went.  Instead he followed Feyre up to where she had retreated in their bedroom.  Even he wasn’t sure what to make of Tamlin sending that card.  He wasn’t sure what to do to comfort her either.  What would he have done if Amarantha had sent him something along the same lines?  He wasn’t sure.

He had no words for Feyre when he wrapped his arms tight around her.  He had no explanations of what Tamlin was thinking or guesses at what to say, so he simply wrapped his arms tight around her, pressed a kiss to her temple, and held her until her heartrate slowed considerably.

“Let’s get ready for bed,” he urged her when he gauged that she was calmer.  She simply nodded against him.  And when he went to strip his shirt off of her, she blushed and looked down at the floor.

“I don’t think I can have sex,” she admitted.

“That’s alright, Darling,” he pulled her towards the bed.  “We don’t need to do anything.  We can simply cuddle close and enjoy each other’s company.”  He followed her down onto the bed and wrapped around her, offering her a different form of intimacy, one that felt far deeper than anything they could achieve through sex. 

He waited until he felt her slip away into sleep before he even dared to shift ever so slightly to grab his phone from the night stand.  With a few quick taps he sent out an email to his family and to Lucien explaining that he and Feyre would not be in the following day.  Then he wrapped tightly around her once more, fully prepared to be there if her dreams became nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had, a few days after my wedding, an ex (semi stalkerish guy) that I had blocked on all social media and email, send me a message saying that I had made a beautiful bride. It was terrifying. So despite Tamlin's well wishes, I wanted to bring around his well wishes in a different light. And honestly I had to google "worst wedding gifts" to try and find something horrible enough to come from Mor. In the end, I messaged my best friend and we came up with the bedding set (Thanks Smert!).


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Board, Hybern, and Keir are all pains in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I know it's been quite a while. We bought a house, had our second baby, and I'm trying to remember what sleep is. My hope for my maternity leave is to finish this story.

When Rhys returned with Feyre to work on Tuesday, he wished he had opted for the honeymoon immediately instead.  His seemingly abrupt marriage had sent his Board of Directors into a frenzy for power.  After he had spent most of the week squashing down their rebellion, he turned his attention back to Hybern and found the man had made a grab for power while he had been distracted.  Hybern had started illegally moving workers into the Illyrian Mountains.  They were not being well received by the local clans which made Rhys feel slightly better, but it meant Hybern was poised to strike.  While he sent emails and made calls to the local politicians demanding to know why they were allowing this monstrosity, Feyre became a crutch he depended on far too much.

She had returned to well wishes from the Velaris companies and plenty of scathing emails and messages about her being a gold digger.  Several men had propositioned her, hoping to get Velaris Incorporated status for their companies because they believed her to be easy.  Cassian had evicted them with little more than a glare.  Rhys would have done worse to them, but he hadn’t known about them until well after the fact, and Feyre had refused to give names of the men or the businesses they were representing.  She had informed him very bluntly that she didn’t trust he wouldn’t go for blood when he was already so worked up with everything else.  Unfortunately, she was right.  He would have no qualms about ruining the business of someone that even hinted that Feyre was whoring herself out.

When she wasn’t doing her own work, Feyre was in his office helping him organize his work and staying with him late into the evenings to make sure he had done everything he felt he could.  Then she would bring him home to where food was always waiting.  She had returned the favor of giving her an extra day off with him several times over as she did everything in her power to make him forget about Hybern once they were home.

He had inquired into how Tamlin had managed to sneak a card into the gifts, but it had been well publicized where they were after the wedding had started so it wouldn’t have been hard to sneak something onto the gift table.  The only question was how he had gotten into the venue or had gotten someone else into the venue to do it unnoticed.  He didn’t believe for one second any of his invited guests had brought it in for him.  His fellow CEO’s were not impressed with Tamlin working with, or rather, for, Hybern.  And none of them had been all that close with him before.

The entire week had been filled with media coverage of photos of them together entering the gallery and several shots through the windows of the gallery of the celebrations.  Commentary had ranged from Feyre’s unique gown, to the small size of the wedding, to speculations on where they would go to vacation though everyone agreed Summer Hospitalities would be involved because Tarquin had been invited to the wedding.

When Friday rolled around, Rhys found Feyre tucked into her office still working after even Lucien had left.  She smiled up at him the moment he paused at the door to admire the shining nameplate that marked her as Feyre Nox, Velaris Incorporated Chief Executive Officer.

“I’ll be just a moment.  I just have a couple more notes to make on my last meeting and then we can go,” she promised.

“Actually,” he rubbed at the back of his neck.  “You remember Keir Gold, Mor’s sperm donor?”  He would never stoop to calling the man her father if he could help it.  Not even Mor called him her father anymore.

“Yes,” Feyre stopped typing and turned to give him her full attention.

Of course, she remembered Keir.  He was the reason she was a wealthy woman in her own right as she now held his shares.  His threats to her had had his removed.

“It turns out he went to Hybern and is taking his revenge on me that way,” Rhys blurted out.  He had had Azriel monitoring the man ever since he had been removed expecting some sort of revenge, but they had lost track of him until recently.  Now he had resurfaced within Hybern’s ranks, though certainly not very high ranked.  It spelled out problems for the company.  He, Mor, and Azriel were all staying late to rework the security system in case Keir knew more than he let on.  It was something Feyre certainly could stay for, but it wasn’t necessary, and she had stayed late with him every other night.

“So, it will be another late night.  Should I order dinner from somewhere?”  She was already reaching for her phone but stopped when Rhys shook his head.

“Why don’t you go home?  Paint and start enjoying the weekend,” he suggested.  Hurt flashed in Feyre’s eyes at the suggestion and he all but ran to get to her side, to cup her face and kiss her brow.  “Not that I don’t love having you here, Darling.  I always need you at my side, but I feel bad that all week you’ve been staying late with me and taking care of me.  I want you to have some time for you.  And I truly don’t know how late I’ll be tonight.”

He felt Feyre relax under his touch, enough that he wished he was going home with her.  Enough that he wished that when they would get home together, he could enact a rule that all clothing be banned from weekends at home, save for their family dinner.  He could only imagine Cassian being all too fond of that rule.  But it was unlikely this particular weekend would have any sort of time for that.  With the news of Keir joining ranks with Hybern came far more work than he could afford to give his attention to when he had an entire company to manage on top of that.  He’d need to work through the weekend, another thing he would have to apologize to Feyre for.

“You promised we’d have a real dinner tonight and have a weekend together,” she reminded him.  He had made that promise, that morning when she had groaned about the early hour as his alarm went off.  It had been his bribe to get her out of bed though she groaned about the early hour every morning.  His beautiful wife was not normally a morning person.

“I know,” he folded her into his arms.  “I hate disappointing you, but I have to take care of this.”

“I know,” she breathed back at him.  “I just want you to know, you owe me.”

“There was never a doubt,” he pressed another kiss to her brow.  He absolutely hated the situation.  “I can have a driver take you home if you’d like.”  She had made progress on learning to drive and working towards her driver’s license but not enough he could hand her the keys to his car and send her on her way.

“Wake me when you get home?”  She asked finally.

“I’m not going to make that promise,” he sighed.  If she was sleeping, he wouldn’t wake her.  He preferred she get all the sleep she wanted.  She deserved her rest, and if he was being honest, he didn’t want her noticing if he came in well after midnight or closer to dawn which seemed far more likely.  She would either get worried or be upset with him for working so late, or both.  None of those were options he liked.

“Fine,” she murmured.  “But you really owe me.”

“More than you will ever know,” he assured her and finally released her.  “I’ll be there when you wake up in the morning.”

He left her to finish up her work, returning to his office to call up a driver to bring her home.  He did owe her.  He had promised a weekend together and a real dinner together that wasn’t shared over his desk.  It was only a few minutes later she stopped by his office on her way out to give him a kiss.

Mor and Azriel arrived half an hour later.  They ordered in a meal, got comfortable, and started discussing staff screening, building wide bug searches, new security equipment, and new protocols that wouldn’t violate their employees’ rights.  The main part of the discussion was cut off as Mor fell asleep in her chair while Rhys and Azriel discussed parking garage access.  By then it was already three in the morning.  With a sigh and a promise to resume their conversation the following day, Azriel took Mor home and Rhys took himself home.

He expected to find Feyre curled up in bed, more likely on his side of the bed or in the dead center as she tended to do when he got out of bed before her or she went to bed before he did.  Instead he found the living room lights on and Feyre curled up on the couch with a blanket, asleep while some obscure movie played on the television. 

Not wanting to risk waking her and letting her see the time, he went to change out of his work clothes, came back, turned off the television, and shifted her just enough to settle in behind her on the couch.  Feyre didn’t even wake as she turned over in his arms and buried her face in his bare shoulder.  He knew in the morning his neck would likely hurt but he couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else as he drifted off to sleep.

He awoke to the smell off coffee and quiet voices coming from the kitchen though it was still dark in the living room.  Feyre was no longer in his arms and opened his eyes to see the curtains had been pulled over the windows.  With a groan he stretched and heaved himself off of the couch to wander towards the voices and where precious coffee was waiting for him.

Feyre met him at the doorway of the kitchen, dressed in one of his old t-shirts and a pair of leggings, holding out a cup of coffee to him.  Beyond her he could see Cassian occupying the stove while Mor dozed with her head against the island counter top and Azriel read the paper.  Rhys glanced at the clock on the wall and realized it was only eight.  He had barely been home a little over four hours.  No wonder Mor was sleeping on his kitchen island. 

“You can go and sleep some more if you want,” Feyre murmured to him as she slipped the mug of coffee into his hand.  “Cassian only just started on breakfast.”

“Only if you come with me,” he informed her.  There were still dark circles under her eyes telling him she hadn’t slept for too long.  He wondered how long she had waited for him before she had actually fallen asleep, and for that matter, how long she had already been awake with his family there.  “I don’t remember telling you that you could leave me to sleep on the couch by myself.”

“I must have missed that in the vows,” Feyre teased.  “Really, you didn’t get much sleep.”  He could see worry darkening her eyes, so he cupped her face and kissed her softly.

“We’ll go to bed early tonight and maybe even make it to the bed,” he promised.  “But until then I need to keep sorting things out so maybe next week will be less hectic, and then I might possibly begin to start paying you back for everything you’ve been doing for me.”

Feyre only stayed with them through breakfast before she disappeared into her studio.  Rhys doubted she would have gone to paint at all if he hadn’t been flashing looks her direction even as his family started speaking about some of the new protocols they had discussed overnight in front of her.  She truly deserved the weekend to enjoy herself despite knowing she was probably enjoying herself far less because he was working.

They took a break for lunch, which was provided by Sevinda.  Cassian had gone to pick it up and had come back to report that Sevinda’s small restaurant was packed.  The woman had blamed the increase in business solely on their wedding and them handing out her card.  Rhys did not feel one ounce of guilt about it.  If he could bring more business to Velaris owners, he would. 

Feyre appeared halfway through them eating lunch, paint splattered on her arms, her face, and in her hair.  It reminded Rhys far too much of when they had ‘painted’ that sheet with their bodies.  That sheet that Feyre had somehow gotten framed like it was a canvas painting and had covered one white wall of her studio with it ‘for inspiration’ she claimed.  He was lucky not one member of his family had been up in her studio since it had been hanged.  Not that there were very obvious tells about how the painting had been done, but there were some clear handprints that were not Feyre’s.  Azriel was at least astute enough to likely guess Rhys had been involved and then extrapolate to the how.

His family didn’t leave until close to midnight, taking away any promises he had made to Feyre that morning about going to bed early.  He found her just freshly showered of paint and getting ready for bed herself when he searched her out.  He was ready to give her a thousand apologies for every broken promise, but she didn’t even bring it up.  Instead she rubbed his shoulders and back until he released some of the tension he had built up in them over the day and pulled him down on the bed. 

The next day went much like the first but when Cassian came to claim dinner was set up in the dining room, his family had gotten up and left rather than stay for dinner.  When Rhys had gone to the dining room he had found Cassian had set it up for two and even had had the audacity to light a candle.  He dragged Feyre out of her studio after helping her clean up, and they finally enjoyed a real dinner between just the two of them.

“How are things going?”  Feyre asked softly when dinner was mostly gone.

“It’s going to be a massive undertaking this next week,” Rhys sighed.  “But in the end, it will be for the better.”  New IDS for every employee that gained them access to the parking ramps, to the building, to restricted areas, and even into the cafeteria based on their level of security clearance.  Setting up of security in the lobby to check every ID as employees came through.  Even a new process for how visitors checked in at the front desk and were brought around the building.

“More long days and nights this week then?”  She asked.

“No,” Rhys made sure to meet her eyes as he said it.  “At least, not because of this if they do happen.  It will come down to some new development with Hybern if I do end up staying late this week.” 

Cassian was setting up the new security measures with Azriel while Mor handled the new IDs.  Rhys wasn’t involved in any of it after the initial planning.  His family had insisted.  More than insisted.  Had all but told him he needed to spend some time with his wife.

“And tonight, Darling, I am all yours for whatever you want.”  And as exhausted as he was, he would do whatever she wanted.  If she wanted a marathon of sex to make up for them barely having the energy over the last week and all of the promises that had been broken to her the last few days, he would somehow find the energy for her.

“Whatever I want?”  Feyre asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Anything,” he promised, already feeling his body preparing for taking her wherever she chose.

Feyre stood and reached a hand down to him.  He took it and smiled as she led him up the stairs to their bedroom.  Without a word she began to strip him of his clothes and directed him to lay on the bed.  But Feyre remained clothed as she circled the bed to her night stand.  He expected some new toy she had bought to torture him.  But instead she produced a sketchpad and a box of charcoal pencils.

“I was hoping you’d let me draw you,” she said finally.

Rhys could only smile at her, wanting to kiss her for her simple request.  Of all the things he had expected her to ask of him, this wasn’t it.  But it as very much something Feyre would ask.

“Draw away,” he waved at his naked body and tucked a hand under his head to watch his beautiful wife as she appeared to examine him in the same was she had reserved for the masterpieces in the art museum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random rant that I know this fandom will support me on. My daughter, like my son, was born with pointed tips on her ears. A trait passed from me. Nothing was ever said about my son's ears to me but with my daughter, the audiologist suggested I splint her ears now to fix their pointed tips. Purely cosmetic. It seemed to confuse her that I would subject my children to pointed ears, suggesting it was better than them getting surgery later in life to correct them. Again, it's purely cosmetic. It does not affect their hearing or any other ability. Pretty sure if she would have tried a third time I would have told her to leave the fae ears alone.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hybern makes a personal strike.

Rhys wasn’t sure when exactly laying there and letting Feyre sketch every part of his naked body turned into sleep, but he woke with a start to a dark room and Feyre asleep tucked firmly against him, equally unclothed.  It had become a small obsession of hers over the past couple of weeks and he couldn’t deny her a chance to admire his body. 

For a moment he was sure it had just been a nightmare he couldn’t remember that had woken him but then he heard something shatter in a distant corner of the townhouse.

“Feyre,” he murmured her name.  “Wake up.”

Her eyes opened instantly and searched for the clock on the nightstand.  2:53 AM.  He could see the question in her eyes.  Why was he waking her up so early?  Something else shattering on the floor below them had her half sitting up.

“I need you to get dressed, take your cellphone, go into the bathroom and lock the door,” he started to get out of the bed himself.

“We should just call the police,” she begged.

“There’s a chance that it’s just a very drunk Cassian or Mor,” Rhys told her.  It had happened before, but he knew in his heart it wasn’t the case this time.  Cassian and Mor took their duties seriously.  It was unlike them to get that drunk on a work night.

“You don’t believe that,” Feyre informed him.

“It’s your choice,” he admitted.  “But for my sake, I’d like you to lock yourself in the bathroom just in case.”

“Okay,” she sighed and got up to pull on her own clothes.  When he was assured she had her phone and was locked in the bathroom, he took out his Illyrian sword and walked down the hall to the stairwell.  Somewhere in his mind he realized his security alarm hadn’t gone off.  Somewhere in his mind he realized he should have called his brothers or the police as Feyre had suggested.  But he’d rather deal with this on his own.  He descended the stairs and turned towards the living room where he stopped.

“Hello, Rhysand,” came a sultry voice that made Rhys shudder with all of the memories it conjured in his head.  “Quite the… charming… place you have here.”

Amarantha sat on his couch, looking for all the world like she was laying claim to the room and the rest of the house already.  Across from her, in an armchair, sat an older man with gray steaked brown hair, black eyes surrounded by wrinkles, and plain clothes that did little to hide exactly who he was.  Hybern.

“Your security system was laughable,” Amarantha continued.  “Cut two wires and the whole thing shuts down.”

Rhys froze, realizing why the alarms never sounded but he also knew that the moment the security system had been disabled like that, Azriel would have been alerted.  He hoped his brother had woken to the message.

“Where is your beautiful bride?”  Hybern asked.  “Should we send my ravens to locate her so we can all have a civil conversation between the four of us?”  He snapped his fingers and two people left his dining room.  One pale with white hair and the other deeply tanned with dark hair, twins except for their coloring. 

“You’re going to leave Feyre out of this,” Rhys raised the sword to block the stairwell.  The ravens, as Hybern had called them, wisely stopped.  Rhys would not be opposed to making both of them bleed to protect Feyre, and he wouldn’t face charges.  These were intruders in his home and he was protecting himself and his wife.  The law would side with him.

“Ah yes, your Illyrian heritage shows itself.  Let’s discuss your mountain home.  That cabin was lovely.”  Hybern started to inspect his nails.  “A shame that the location was perfect for where I needed to set up my base.  But don’t worry, I saved you a memento from it.”  He pulled out a chunk of cedar wood that was charred and chucked it at Rhys’ feet.

Rhys stared at the piece of wood for a moment before he knelt down to pick it up.  It wasn’t just any part of the cabin, it was from the doorway where, unless one knew where to look, they wouldn’t have seen the small carving his father had done of his and his wife’s initials entwined.  But there they were, on that piece of charred wood.  Proof that some part of the cabin had at least been damaged.  Distantly he felt a stab of pain in his heart at that.  Years of memories in his mother’s cabin with his family and now with Feyre flashed before his eyes as the pain settled in his heart like a stone in a pond.

A giggle from Amarantha had him snapping his attention upwards again.  He had lowered his sword when he had gone to pick up the wood and the ravens were gone.  He cursed himself soundly.  He had let down his guard and Feyre was now in danger.  He turned to go up the stairs but suddenly Amarantha was at his side, dragging him back towards the living room with surprising strength.  He had forgotten how strong she was despite her size.

“She’ll be joining us soon enough,” Amarantha purred.  Her red pointed nails dug into Rhys’ skin as she shoved him towards the couch and then sat down on top of his lap, straddling him.  “I’ve missed you, Rhysand.  Tamlin isn’t nearly as giving as you were to me.”

“How did you get yourself out of prison this time?”  He asked, trying to distract himself from the way she shifted her hips over him, grinding against his length.  Trying to distract himself from how ill he was feeling at her touch and the pervasive invasion of his being.

“Oh, Rhysand, as if any prison could hold me,” she laughed.  Hybern joined in with his own joyless chuckle.  “You can bribe anyone with the right _leverage_.”

“Speaking of, let’s discuss you giving up this mad notion you can protect Prythian from me,” Hybern started.

“What makes you think I’m going to give in and let you win?”  Rhys demanded.  It was his heritage, his country, his ethics—

“I think you’ll do almost anything to protect your darling wife,” Hybern shrugged as Rhys processed the words.  “I debated, you know.  On how to personally strike at you.  Your Illyrian bastard brothers you keep so close, your cousin, perhaps bombing your precious skyscraper at a peak time to endanger as many of your employees as possible.  But this just feels so much better.  Invading your private residence and letting you watch as we torture your blushing bride until you relent.  Nothing is safe from me, Rhysand.  Not when you keep opposing me so.”

Rhys felt his heart start to pound.  He would give everything up for Feyre.  To protect her from being injured or killed.  To protect her from any of that pain.  He went to shove Amarantha off of him but the sound of a gun cocking returned his attention to Hybern.  The pistol in his hand was aimed so casually in his direction that Rhys didn’t even hesitate to believe the man would shoot him if he moved.  If he was dead he couldn’t negotiate for Feyre’s safety.  So he stayed put, enduring Amarantha’s pursuit of his body.  He reasoned that if Hybern thought to shoot him, he would hold her in front of him.  He wouldn’t even feel bad about her death.

“It bothered dearest Amarantha here to not know where you were hiding from her.  You dodged all of her trackers.  You kept your movements well hidden.  But then you slipped up.  You were far too interested in your new bride to pay attention to being followed all the way home from your wedding.  A pity for you.  And you’ve been far too distracted these last few weeks to notice us watching you, waiting for the right time to strike.”  Hybern kept talking to fill the time.

A minute passed, and then two, but the ravens didn’t appear with Feyre and Rhys felt a small bit of pride that perhaps Feyre had hidden herself well enough or that the bathroom lock was holding far better than he had ever planned.  He hoped Azriel had something up his sleeve.  He could endure listening to his failures in protecting them while Feyre bought them the time his brother probably needed.

“Go help them locate the pathetic girl,” Hybern demanded when it became five minutes of sitting together in the living room without the ravens or Feyre appearing.  There wasn’t even a squeak of floorboards above them or voices to tell them what might be going on above them.

Amaratha slid from his lap far too slowly for his liking.  The relief was short lived as that pistol retrained on him, now without Amarantha’s body as a possible shield.

“I must be some big threat for you to want my cooperation,” Rhys tried to make small talk.  Anything to distract Hybern.  “Here I was beginning to think I was ineffective in this fight.”

“You’re but a small annoyance, but even flies need to be dealt with from time to time,” Hybern sneered at him.  “And I think it will be a personal favor to Mr. Greene if I ruin you so thoroughly.  Perhaps I should send what remains of your wife to him.  I think he’s missed having her body to use as he wants.  A broken mind won’t deter him too much.”

Rhys was about to reply with some sort of snappy remark but two things happened at the exact same moment.  The door burst open at the same time they heard a piercing scream from well above them.  Not from the second floor but higher, perhaps the third floor.  The sound of a gun firing drew Rhys’ panic from the screams above him to where Hybern was pointing his pistol, at a now paling Azriel clutching his chest where the bullet had hit.

Rhys didn’t even register the flashing lights coming outside the window, or how the place was overrun with SWAT and police in moments.  The moment Hybern was surrounded he moved, not towards the stairs but to Azriel’s side.  His brother had been shot in the chest coming to his rescue.  He’d rather he had been shot than his brother.  His death over Azriel’s.  His brother deserved to have a full life.  He deserved so much more than he had already been given.  He regretted hoping his brother had a plan.  He regretted hoping Azriel would find some way to get them out of this mess.  It should have been him and not Azriel.

“Are there more, Mr. Nox?”  An officer asked him, a hand on his shoulder to get his attention away from his brother.

“Upstairs with my wife,” he managed to choke out.  Another failure.  He had forgotten about Feyre, the ravens, and Amarantha.

 “Shit that hurt,” Azriel wheezed out when Hybern was completely outside.  Rhys realized something was off about the situation.  How was Azriel even talking?  Where was all the blood that should have been seeping from the wound?  Slowly Azriel sat up and opened his shirt to show his bulletproof vest.  Rhys almost let out a laugh of relief if it wasn’t for Azriel opening the vest to show a dark bruise spreading over his heart.  If he hadn’t been wearing the vest, he would have died.  “Where’s Feyre?”

What felt like an hour later, police appeared, dragging both ravens out.  Behind both ravens came Amarantha screeching at the top of her lungs while clutching a bloody arm to her body.  Behind Amarantha came a police officer holding a plastic bag with a hand in it.  Even through the blood on the hand in the brief glimpse he had of it, he could see the red pointed nails.

“This way, Mrs. Nox,” an officer led a pale Feyre down the stairs finally.  She had blood splattered on her, but it was just a spray.  The police officer was trying to get Feyre towards the couch but she seemed to ignore the request and went straight for Rhys where he still knelt next to Azriel.  Without a word Rhys drew her into his arms and felt her shaking.

“I know only you are supposed to handle your special knives,” she whispered against his neck.  “But it was all I could find…”

Rhys felt her shudder.  Feyre had cut off Amarantha’s hand with one of his Illyrian knives.  No, she wasn’t supposed to handle them.  Half because she was untrained and a liability to herself and half because only the warrior they were gifted to was supposed to touch them.  But he was proud of her.  He hadn’t thought to arm her somehow.  Another failure on his part.

“I need to take your statements,” an officer interrupted them. 

“If you would allow me,” Azriel spoke.  He stood and walked to the television remote.  He turned on the T.V., typed a code into the remote, and Rhys was greeted with the sight of his living from the point of view of his bookshelves.  “It was set to record if someone tampered with the alarms and only then,” Azriel turned to assuring Rhys.  “And only the main floor.”

Feyre clutched at Rhys as they, and the officer, listened and watched the entire exchange once more.  When Hybern mentioned torturing her and giving her to Tamlin, she shrank against his side.  Now that the adrenaline had worn off, watching the exchange made Rhys beyond sick.  He was going to need several shots of hard liquor to calm his nerves now that they were worked back up.

“Do you have somewhere else to go tonight?”  The officer asked when the tape had been played fully and after Feyre had given her quiet statement about taking the knife and going to the bathroom in her studio instead of the one in her bedroom where she had cut off Amarantha’s hand when the woman had managed to get a hand through the door to try and unblock it.

“Yes,” Rhys assured the officer.  They would pack some bags and he would get them to a hotel.  He wouldn’t impose on any of his family if he could help it.  Judging by how Feyre was clinging to his side, she would need some physical assurance.  He could use some physical assurance after Amarantha had touched him again.  He could still feel her straddling him and her hands ghosting over his body to possess him.  He doubted his family would stop them from anything they actually needed, but he couldn’t help but recall how Cassian had teased them after Rhys had gotten out of the hospital only a few months before.

“Rhys!  Feyre!”  Cassian’s voice boomed through the front door.  He rounded into the living room with two police officers trying to hold him back.  “What the hell is going on?”

“Will you sit with Feyre a moment while I get us a suitcase packed?”  Rhys asked instead of answering.  “It’s alright,” he told the officers trying to hold Cassian.  “He’s family.”

As he went up the stairs he could hear Azriel start to explain what had happened.  Rhys paused at his bedroom door.  The room had been torn apart.  The bed had been hacked to pieces.  Clothes had been strewn about the room.  Rhys grabbed a few pieces he could easily pick out.  Shirts, pants, and underwear for himself and sweaters, long shirts, and leggings that Feyre tended to prefer for comfort.  He tucked them all in a bag and fetched Feyre’s sketchbook from inside the nightstand. 

When he had the bag packed, he made a trip up to the third floor to grab his laptop.  His office was equally trashed with books ripped off of shelves and paper everywhere.  Feyre’s studio wasn’t much better.  Paintings sitting along the walls had been cut up or smashed.  The sheet they had ‘painted’ together had been hacked up.  Blood splattered the tiles by the bathroom.  And the half finished painting on Feyre’s easel, a portrait of him that looked like she was spending quite a bit of time on, had been smashed to the floor.  After one long look around for anything Feyre might want, Rhys went back to the living room with the bag.  Cassian was holding onto Feyre while Azriel had disappeared from sight.  There were already notably less police around.

“Paramedics asked him to go in for a scan at the hospital to make sure all he got was a bruise from that bullet,” Cassian explained.  “Where can I drive the two of you?”

Even after they had checked into one of the finest rooms at one of Tarquin’s premier hotels nearest Nox Industries, neither he nor Feyre could sleep.  Rhys raided the mini bar, wrapped around Feyre, and kept her locked against him until the sun had risen and Feyre’s growling stomach reminded them about breakfast.

“A thought for a thought?”  Rhys asked after they had ordered up room service.

“I’m thinking that I hope they can’t attach her hand again so she can never touch you again.  I’m thinking I wish I would have gotten both of her hands,” Feyre’s voice was quiet.  “And I’m thinking that the more I wish that, that I’m not much better than she was.”

“Feyre,” he cupped her cheeks to make her look at him.  “You are so much better than her.  So much better,” he kissed her softly and then pulled back to meet her blue-gray eyes.  “I’m thinking that you are so strong.  I’m thinking that I’m proud of you.  And I’m thinking that I would have given up everything to protect you.”  He drew in a shuddering breath.  “I’m thinking I should have been more careful, protected you better.”

“Please don’t,” she whispered.  “Please don’t start protecting me like that.”

“Not like you’re thinking.  You are far more capable than I ever imagined,” he buried his face in the crook of her neck.  “I can’t live without you.”  He breathed in the scent of her and pressed kisses along her shoulder.

Breakfast came, forcing them to separate just enough to eat.  Rhys was only partway through his first pancake when his phone started beeping. 

_Cassian: Turn on the news._

Rhys didn’t even respond.  Instead he turned on the television and flipped to the news.  The picture behind the newscaster was a familiar one, his townhouse, along with the words: _Police called to home of Rhysand Nox of Nox Industries in middle of night._

Rhys stared at the screen for a moment.  They were showing his home on television.  All of his careful protection of his townhouse was for nothing.  The location of his home was now public knowledge.  Then again, he realized he was only hiding his private home from people like Hybern, Amarantha, and Tamlin.  They all knew where he lived now anyway without this broadcast.

“Police were alerted to a disturbance in the neighborhood by the security system owned by Nox.  Police arrived on the scene to note Nox and his wife were being held hostage in their own home by who police have now identified as Amarantha Scarlett and Rubio Hybern as well as two others.  Ms. Scarlett was recently charged and imprisoned for kidnapping and torturing Feyre Nox and has been known to have a history with Rhysand Nox previously.  Political sources tell us that Nox has been actively opposing Hybern moving his company to Prythian.  At this time we have been unable to reach Mr. and Mrs. Nox for comment and their public relations team has been oddly silent on the matter.  We will have more on this developing story later.”

“Do we release a statement about this?”  Feyre asked softly when the newscaster switched to talking about some new research being done by Dawn Medical.

“I think we have to,” Rhys sighed.  “They will just get all of the wrong information out if they don’t hear from us.”  He was about to come up with something when his phone started beeping incessantly.

_Mor: WHERE ARE YOU?_

_Mor: WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL ME LAST NIGHT_

_Mor: WHY AM I HEARING ABOUT THIS ON THE NEWS AND NOT FROM YOU?_

_Mor: ANSWER ME!!!!!_

Before Rhys could respond, Feyre’s phone started beeping as well.  Once glance at the screen showed the same messages being sent to Feyre from Mor.  Then his phone started to ring.  He expected to see Mor’s name on the caller ID but instead it was Amren’s.  Deciding he couldn’t ignore her he looked to Feyre.

“I need to take this.  Can you respond to Mor?”

“You owe me,” was all Feyre could say.

“Would you rather be on the receiving end of Amren’s phone call?”  He asked and a small smile graced his face when she mock shuddered and dialed Mor’s number without further complaint.

Rhys expected that Amren would snap at him for not calling her immediately after everything had happened but she simply started talking about the statement he would need to make to the media and then which charges they were going to pursue.  At the very end of the call Amren paused a moment.

“I’m to understand that Feyre hacked off Amarantha’s hand,” Amren’s voice was dry.  In the background Rhys heard a male cough.  “Give her my most pleasant regards on the matter.”

“I will.  Who are you with?”  Rhys wouldn’t ask how she already knew Feyre had caused bodily harm to one of their attackers.

“Just Varian.  Don’t worry, he already knows how to keep quiet,” Amren’s tone left nothing for debate.

Varian… he knew that name.  Where did he know that name from?  Then an image entered his mind of a dark skinned male with white hair and piercing blue eyes that Tarquin had claimed as his cousin, and head of Summer Hospitalities security team.

“Varian Summer?!”  Rhys demanded.

“Your discretion is appreciated, Rhysand,” was the only response.  Then a beep followed by silence told him she had ended the call. 

He looked to Feyre to see her still on the phone trying to assure Mor.  She rolled her eyes a few times before he heard her give Mor the name of the hotel and the room number.

Mor arrived an hour after they finished breakfast along with Cassian and Azriel.  Azriel was quick to assure both him and Feyre he was indeed just bruised and then moved the conversation away from himself.  They discussed the statement and listened as Mor called her connection to the news and gave their official statement over.  Then together they watched the as the newscaster revealed neither Rhys or Feyre were injured in the harrowing break in, but damage had been intended in order to keep Nox Industries from interfering with Hybern’s invasion into Prythian.  They had agreed it would hopefully lead to more resistance against Hybern since all of them doubted Hybern’s efforts would stop with him being arrested.  None of them believed he would stay in prison for long.

Within another hour, Tarquin showed up at their door unannounced.  It seemed he had started calling each of his hotels the moment the news had aired so he could find if they were booked into any of his rooms.  Once Tarquin was assured both Feyre and Rhys were fine and had told them anything they needed would be taken care of, he left. 

More people reached out to them as the day wore on.  Feyre spent an hour on the phone with both of her sisters having a tearful conversation that left Rhys holding her for a long time to assure her it was fine to still not want much to do with them even after they had reached out to her. 

Rhys spent his time that afternoon responding to emails from fellow CEOs and updating Lucien via email to new meetings with Kallias, Helion, Thesan, and Tarquin.  With the break in in the news, it was time to push back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, your comments are appreciated.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter before the epilogue.

Rhys watched Feyre knowing she wasn’t fully aware he was there.  She was trying to paint but so far the canvas in front of her remained blank and her brush still hadn’t touched the drying pallet of paint.  There was little that could break his heart about returning home after it had been cleaned up.  Things were replaceable.  But Feyre’s studio had been trashed.  The paintings had all been smashed or hacked up.  She had spent their first day back sorting through remnants and throwing most of it away.  The only one she kept was the smashed canvas that held her unfinished painting of him.  That had been a week ago but he knew Feyre wasn’t coping well.

At night, Feyre wouldn’t sleep unless he was with her and even then she would wake with nightmares.  She didn’t paint.  She spent each evening in her studio but nothing ever came of it.  The same canvas sat on the easel, still as pristine as when she had put it up there.  Even worse was Feyre, and Rhys, both did not respond well to unannounced visitors.  Cassian had barged in through the front door once on their first day home and hadn’t done so again after getting a look of Feyre’s face before she buried it in Rhys’ chest.

But that currently wasn’t a concern.  His brothers were both gone.  Cassian had gone to visit their clan to organize a sweep for any Hybern workers hiding in the mountains.  Azriel had gone to locate the cabin and see if anything was left of it and if anything could be salvaged.  Neither would be returning for at least another week.  And Mor was too busy to come barging in anymore. 

“Feyre,” Rhys called her name softly.  “Darling.”  She slowly lowered the brush and turned to look at him.  The same vacant expression that followed her nightmares etched itself in the features of her face.

He was half tempted to tell her to speak to the therapist that Thesan had recommended when Rhys had mentioned the signs of trauma Feyre had been exhibiting.  But it was the other suggestion that Thesan had mentioned that had Rhys standing behind Feyre now.

She hadn’t had nightmares at the hotel.  She had slept somewhat soundly against him each night they had spent there.  He had even seen her make a few sketches in her sketchpad at the hotel.

“Darling, I want to take you somewhere,” he reached out to stroke a hand down her cheek and she leaned into it for a moment before setting the pallet down.

“Where are we going?”  She asked.

“Some place special,” he promised.  And it was some place special, or he hoped it would be. 

He drove them until they were in a line of mansions along the Sidra.  Feyre kept her eyes on the road in front of them even as he slowed and pulled in to a driveway in front of one of the more beautiful mansions.  She followed his lead as he helped her out of the car and followed him up to the front door.  He opened the key box with a code and let himself in.

The foyer was polished white marble with sweeping staircases shaped like wings.  Feyre said nothing as they walked the entire mansion, room to room.  And when they finally reached the gardens in the back, Rhys turned to her.

“What do you think?”  He asked finally.

“What is this, Rhys?”  She asked in return.

“Home, if you want it,” he told her.  He closed the distance between them, took her hands and held them tight.  “You aren’t comfortable at the townhouse anymore, understandably so.  More than that, it’s starting to feel a bit small.  Not when it’s just me and you, but when everyone else is there it’s getting cramped.  And if, _if_ , we have children, we will need more space.  This house is up for sale but if you don’t like it, we can buy property somewhere and build something new.”

“It’s a bit large,” she said finally.  An understatement if he had ever heard one.  The place was more than a bit large.  It was huge.  Something that was only a few rooms shy of his family’s estate in the country and lacking the large amount of open land around it.

“It probably needs to be a bit large.  We need space for our family and their egos all to be in the same place.  We need offices for you and me.  A studio for you,” he smiled at her and stroked a hand over her cheekbone.  “A closet big enough for all of my clothing, and another one for everything I plan to buy you over the years.”

“Do we really need a ballroom?”  Feyre asked.

“Now that we aren’t the horrible owners of Night Industries that is out to destroy the world I think we might have to start hosting a few parties.  Helion hosts parties at his house down the street at least twice a month, though I’m not sure we ever want to be invited to those.”  Rhys grinned as Feyre rolled her eyes. 

She had been made aware of Helion’s ‘parties’ by Helion himself describing the aftermath of a recent one at their last meeting.  While Feyre was certainly not innocent in the way of the world or in the way of sex, she had had questions that she had waited until they had been laying in bed that night to ask.  Mostly logistic questions about how Helion’s parties actually worked. 

“Imagine having a gala for Velaris each year,” Rhys murmured in her ear to put more pleasant images in her mind.  She had talked about that once in passing.  About finding some sort of event to recognize the businesses and people that Velaris supported.

“So this will be home then instead of the townhouse?”  Feyre asked finally.

“Only if you want it,” he told her honestly.  If she told him she’d prefer a penthouse downtown, he’d find one.  If she said she wanted an airy mansion on a mountain top with moonstone pillars lining the halls, he’d buy her a mountain and start building immediately.  And if she really wanted to stay in the townhouse, he wouldn’t question it again though he’d be investing in multiple security measures with Hybern and Amarantha knowing where they lived.

“You waited until Cassian and Az were out of town and Mor was too busy so they couldn’t interfere,” Feyre accused.

“True,” Rhys smirked at her.  “But Az knew about it.  He tipped me off that this property was going to be for sale.”  He waited as she looked around the garden once more.

“We will need to do something about the kitchen.  It’s severely outdated.  Nuala, Cerridwen, and Cass will all hate it.  And maybe I can hire Elain to come do the gardens,” Feyre mused.

“Anything you want, Feyre,” Rhys promised her.  “Design it however you want.  Tear down walls, rip up floors, make whatever changes you would like to make this home for us.”

“Then let me know when I can get a contractor out here,” she told him.  “Now let’s go home.  I’m tired.”

It didn’t take Rhys more than two days to get full possession of the house and another day to unleash Feyre on it with a contractor to talk about the kitchen and any other projects she wanted.  She conscripted Nuala and Cerridwen to help her.

The project did exactly what Rhys had intended, distracting Feyre so she didn’t have much time to think on the break in.  Feyre had slept soundly.  She wasn’t painting again, yet, but she was sketching in her sketchpad.  Most of the sketches were design ideas for the new house.  And despite Rhys telling her she had full artistic control, she insisted that he see her ideas and have a say in them.

Which is how his family found them on Saturday evening when they arrived for a family dinner after Cassian and Azriel both arrived back in town.  Mor and Amren apparently had cleared their schedules.  Rhys hadn’t been planning on any of them so neither he nor Feyre were exactly dressed for company.  Feyre hadn’t even bothered to pull on more than one of his t-shirts for the day and he was only in lounge pants. 

Once Rhys saw who was knocking on the door, he sent Feyre upstairs to locate pants and opened the door to greet his family when she was out of sight. 

“Did we catch you at a bad time?”  Azriel asked eyeing his shirtless state.

“Not at all.  Feyre and I were just discussing ordering dinner in since we didn’t know family dinners were starting again tonight,” he waved them in.

“Where is Feyre?”  Mor asked as they came in and noted the papers sprawled out over the table along with a number of colored pencils.

“She’s putting on more appropriate clothing for company,” Rhys explained and went to start collecting the papers.  With the exception of Azriel finding them the property, he hadn’t told any of his family that they had bought a place or were even looking to move.  He hadn’t even informed Azriel of the actual purchase of the property.

“What’s this?  Feyre’s coloring in the dining room now?  Didn’t we give her a studio to do this stuff in?”  Cassian demanded.

“Feyre won’t work in her studio,” Rhys admitted quietly.  “And it’s easier for us to do this work at the table.”  He snatched one of the sketches from Cassian before he could get a good look at it but could not get to the one Azriel had picked up to help gather.

“So you bought it then,” Az spoke.  “When do you move?”  His quiet voice carried and their family all turned to look at the two of them.

“When it’s done.  The contractor gave Feyre a timeline of five to six weeks,” Rhys sighed.  “And of course, I’d like you to set up the security system.”

“I’ll need access,” Azriel started.

“Speak with Feyre about that.  She has full control.”  Rhys waved to his wife as she came down the stairs.  She appeared to have traded out his shirt for a sweater and leggings.  She also appeared to have brought him the shirt she had been wearing for him to pull on. 

“You’re moving?”  Cassian demanded finally.  “We leave you for a week and you buy a new house and are moving?”

Rhys rolled his eyes at his brother and turned back to Azriel.  “Do you have anything to report?”

“The cabin is gone,” Azriel informed him quietly.  “It looks like they burned it down and cleared away the wreckage in preparation to build there, just as Hybern indicated.  They even had the ground marked out for the foundation.”

Rhys felt the words like a physical blow.  His mother’s cabin—gone.  All of those memories—.  Feyre’s arms around him had him pulling her closer to steal comfort from her. 

“I searched the area but only the construction equipment was left behind,” Azriel pushed on.

“Yeah, that’s what we found too.  Once Hybern was arrested, the lackeys cleared out,” Cassian added.  “We checked every possible hiding place to make sure they weren’t just lying low, but there’s no one left.  Just their equipment like they dropped everything and ran when Hybern was picked up.”

“Well, they were illegally occupying native lands,” Amren sipped at the wine she had somehow already produced.  “And illegally building on that land.  I would say that without Hybern to protect them from legal repercussions, they were wise to run.”  She flashed a savage smile at Rhys.  “I’ve been working on how to keep Hybern from Prythian when he eventually makes his way out of prison.”

“How?”  Mor demanded.

“Unleash me on Prythian and find out, Girlie,” Armen’s smile was nothing short of serpentine. 

“Will it keep Amarantha away as well?”  Rhys asked.

“Amarantha will never be leaving prison again,” Armen turned to them.  “As a repeat offender that has weaseled her way out of prison time and again, she is being put in maximum security with limited access to other inmates and outside contact.”

“Do what you need to do to make sure that monster of a man leaves this place and us alone,” Feyre spoke for Rhys and he couldn’t help but hold her tighter at the strain in her voice.  “Obliterate him.”

“Happily,” Amren’s eyes sparked with a fire that Rhys knew he would fear for the rest of his life.  Whatever Hybern was in for, Rhys could only hope he never gave Amren a reason to do it to him as well.


	32. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue fluff

Rhys grinned at man staring back at him from the mirror.  He doubted he had ever looked happier since his family had perished and he had inherited his father’s company.  He wasn’t sure how he could be happier.  His business was thriving, his family was happy and with him, and he had the most beautiful and selfless wife.  A wife who was sitting at the vanity across the room pinning up her hair and putting last minute touches on her make up.

“What are you grinning at like a fool?”  She asked when her reflection caught his between the mirrors.

“I’m just happy,” he told her honestly. 

He had no reason not to be happy.  Hybern was gone, had been gone for almost a year.  Apparently Hybern breaking into his townhouse, admitting to his plans to torture Feyre, threatening Rhys with a deadly weapon, and shooting Azriel had given her the legal opening she had been waiting for.  Not only had she shredded apart his plans to enter Prythian, and had taken down the corrupt politicians helping him, but she had gone as far as to dismantle his company across the sea as well.  The country of Hybern was still reeling from being released from the company’s hold over them.  Nox was amongst a collection of industries sending aid to help them readjust or in some cases, leave the island altogether.

Beyond that, his relationships with the other companies in Prythian had grown to a point where they no longer set up formal meetings with each other.  They met for lunch, dropped by at random, or called on personal phone numbers when they wanted to discuss things.  Just in the past week Helion had come calling several times with Nesta accompanying him as his personal assistant.  They had come to speak with Feyre about several Velaris contracts and she had had to shift half of her meetings to Lucien who proved to be a competent second to Feyre as Velaris doubled and then tripled in size under her control.

Naturally they still had strained relationships with Spring and with Autumn but that was to be expected.  Beron didn’t like to work with anyone that wasn’t as corrupt as he was and Tamlin, while restored to his place at Spring, was not willing to meet with any of them.  Azriel had reported that Hybern’s destruction had wrecked his own company, causing most of his loyal employees to flee to more stable positions elsewhere.  Cassian had happily pillaged Tamlin’s security team after Azriel cleared them from being spies.

And as Feyre stood up to check her dress in the mirror, Rhys was reminded of yet another reason he was undeniably thrilled.  At the winter solstice, Feyre had revealed to him she was ready to start trying for a child.  They had started that night expecting it to be something that would take time.  They had only been trying for a few months before Feyre had gotten very ill to the point she had lost weight and had needed to be hospitalized.  Thesan had attended her personally, refusing to give her care to any other doctors, mostly to appease Rhys.  The diagnosis had been hyperemesis gravidarum, or rather, an extreme case of morning sickness with an ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy.

Now at five months along, the morning sickness had subsided almost completely and Feyre was just starting to show.  The bump was barely visible beneath the sparkling gown Feyre had chosen to wear for the night, but it was visible enough for Rhys to start to grin like an idiot at the sight of it.  He was going to be a father.

They had had the anatomy ultrasound just that morning but they had opted to be surprised by the gender.  Or rather, they had been taking bets and thought a reveal in the hospital room was much better than some party, and there was always a small chance that they could be mistaken in the ultrasound so they wanted to wait until the baby’s sex was certain.  Feyre had fallen on the side that the babe would be a boy.  She was certain.  Convinced the boy would have Rhys’ crushing blue eyes but her smile.  For the sake of arguing, Rhys told Feyre he believed it was a girl.  Only girls ever gave their parents so much trouble from the start he had told her.  Their family had all taken sides.  Only he and Mor stood on the side it was a girl, his brothers had abandoned him to support Feyre almost immediately.

“Are you ready?”  Feyre asked, drawing his eyes up from her stomach to her face. 

“I’m always ready,” he assured her as he offered her his arm.

They swept from their very oversized bedroom out into the hallway.  Plush blue rugs muffled their footsteps as they walked towards the sweeping staircase.  Lucien was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, his red hair pulled back into a ponytail making him look a bit rakish despite his tuxedo.

“You two took long enough,” he informed them as he stole Feyre’s arm from Rhys.  Rhys only relented because this was their event, not his.  Lucien had taken up his position as Feyre’s second with far more enthusiasm than he had likely shown any other job.  He had his own charm that had business owners trusting him far faster than before and a business sense that had sent profits from Velaris businesses skyrocketing.  So despite him being new to the Velaris branch of Nox Industries, he was as much a part of it as Feyre was.

Feyre simply rolled her eyes at Lucien and let him lead her down the hall to the ballroom.  It was already full of people dressed in their best, enjoying wine and champagne, and eating hors d'oeuvres circulating the room on platters.  The walls were lined with the names of businesses and artists that had all been working under Velaris protection and guidance along with pictures and business cards.  It had been Feyre’s idea to actually throw the gala for Velaris.  It had been Lucien’s to turn it into a marketing event.  So Rhys had helped them build a list of people to invite outside of the Velaris names and had filled the guest list with potential investors, politicians, and leaders in the communities.

“Rhys!”  Cassian called his name, pulling him away from where Lucien and Feyre were taking position on a small platform to give their welcome speech.  Rhys had intended to stand near them to offer his silent support but it seemed his family had other ideas as they pulled him over to join them tucked in one of the side rooms off of the ballroom.  This one had been set up as a small sitting area for those who needed to escape the party and sit.

“Cousin, come sit with us!”  Mor giggled, her arm around her girlfriend.

“Maybe after Feyre is done speaking,” Rhys turned to leave but found the door blocked by Azriel.

“Join us for a drink,” he said and it wasn’t a suggestion.  Rolling his eyes, Rhys went to sit on one of the couches while he waited for whatever his family wanted to come out.

“We have a gift for you,” Cassian told Rhys.  “Something we’ve been working on since the Winter Solstice so consider it a Solstice gift and a birthday gift.”

“For the next few years,” Amren added from where she sat.  Rhys had made sure to invite Varian Summer alongside Tarquin.  It had both amused Amren and had earned her wrath at his cheekiness when he had announced their attendance at a family dinner.  Varian was not in the room with them though.  He was sure Amren was keeping him at an arm’s length for now to keep up appearances.

But Rhys wasn’t too focused on Amren’s relationship.  Instead he was focused on the folder that Azriel was holding out to him.  He took the folder, opened it, and frowned at twin pictures of the now destroyed cabin in the Illyrian Mountains.  One was clearly an old picture, the coloring of the ink indicating it was taken around the time his parents had built it.  The other looked newer, much newer in fact.  And the date stamped on the bottom of the picture indicated it was taken since the new year, months after it had been destroyed.

“We tracked down the original blueprints,” Mor explained quietly.  “I know it isn’t going to be exactly the same but—” she stopped as Rhys pulled her into a tight embrace and then turned to embrace each of his brothers.  He stopped short of hugging Amren and simply nodded to her.  He wasn’t about to incite her anger because he touched her without he expressed permission.  How Varian survived a relationship with her was beyond Rhys’ comprehension. 

“Thank you,” he told them all with as much sincerity as he could muster.

“We thought we might need a vacation, a family vacation, to break the new cabin in,” Cassian told him.  “So tomorrow morning, once we are all sober from the gala, we are leaving.”

“I’ll need to let Feyre know,” Rhys turned to look at the door.

“Feyre already knows,” Azriel grinned at Rhys.  “She’s been quite instrumental in getting your attention away from us whenever you’ve gotten too close asking about the land or what we’ve been doing out there.”

Rhys almost cursed.  His brothers had been spending quite a bit of time ‘hunting’ in Illyrian territory.  Cassian had claimed they needed to reclaim their heritage but whenever Rhys had thought to invite himself along, Feyre had had some sort of emergency that had kept him away.  One of which was her hospitalization with her morning sickness, so he knew not all of them were orchestrated.  It would have been hard for her to fake that level of illness.  And he had been trying to figure out what to with the vacant land.  He had asked his brothers twice about donating it to make some sort of refuge for Illyrian orphans and women only to have them dodge around it or to be distracted by a naked Feyre whenever they were home and he was musing about it alone.  Honestly, now that he thought about it, it was laughable how he hadn’t caught on.

“We do need to do some honest hunting,” Cassian told Rhys.  “Part of the reason we are going.  And we should go before Feyre gets too heavily pregnant.  So why not this next week?”

“Work, meetings…” Rhys started to list off.

“You deserve some time off and all meetings have been rescheduled,” Mor told him.  “No other objections.  We need a family vacation before you and Feyre ruin it with babies.”

Rhys could only chuckle at the statement.  Mor was more than excited about the baby.  Feyre often joked that Mor was more excited than Rhys or herself.  Mor was constantly shopping to buy baby clothes, nursery decorations, toys, and anything else Feyre might need.  She already had an extravagant baby shower planned despite it being too early for that.  Rhys just explained it away as Mor liked a reason to shop and plan parties.

“Okay, fine, we’ll head out tomorrow morning,” Rhys told his family.  “Now, let’s go enjoy the party.”  He waited until Azriel unblocked the door and left to catch Feyre just as she left the stage.  “Dance with me, all night,” he commanded of her.

“Even if I step on your toes?”  She asked as he led her to the dancefloor. 

“Even then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for staying with me through this story. I am on the site constantly. I have a few ideas for other one-shots but no long stories at this rate. I look forward to reading comments from everyone!


	33. Bonus Post Epilogue Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, with a new year and noticing this fiction has over 10,000 views (holy cow), I thought I'd write a bonus post story scene for those who want just a taste more. I don't plan on writing anything more.

Rhys growled as he saw the clock on his computer flip over to 10 PM.  Long nights at the office were not something new.  When Hybern had been an issue, he had spent countless nights working late.  But since he and Feyre had married and Hybern had been dealt with, those long nights at the office had become few and far between.  Which is why a whole week of them was grating on his nerves.  But issues needed to be dealt with.  Nothing as major as Hybern.  No it was simply his Board of Directors getting themselves worked up.  He had replaced two of them in the past year for various issues and they had grown quiet for quite some time.  But then they had started wrecking general havoc on his company’s still fairly new good name.  So here he was on damage control.

A wishful look out the front of his glass door was simply a wishful look.  Feyre would not be coming through it from down the hall.  With Velaris thriving and unaffected by the Board, he had been sending her home on time each night.  The first night she had protested.  The second she had brought him dinner.  And now by the fifth night she had just given in and had gone home to start her weekend with only minor complaints about being without him. 

He knew she was tired.  She had been napping more, sometimes on the couch in her office between meetings or instead of taking a lunch break.  Most mornings it was harder to get her up and some evenings she went to bed right after dinner.  Work was busy so he just assumed it had everything to do with her having exhausted herself.  She needed a vacation and he needed one too honestly.  Perhaps he needed to call Tarquin and see what wonderful destination he recommended to them.  But he also couldn’t just leave the Board while they were acting up.  He needed to impose authority on them if needed and act as the head and face of the company.

All the same he reached for the phone taking a guess that Tarquin would still be awake.  With no one else in the entire building, he set the phone to speaker as it dialed and started pulling up Summer Hospitality’s website.

“Rhysand, shouldn’t you be at home enjoying a Friday night?”  Tarquin admonished in his form of greeting.

“How do you know I’m not home?”  Rhys raised an eyebrow at the phone.  He had called from his personal cellphone, not his work phone.

“I can see you,” Tarquin sounded amused.  Rhys looked up and out at the building across the street, the new home of Summer Hospitality Corporate Offices.  Sure enough, on the top level, was an office lit up just like his and a dark silhouette waved at him.  Tarquin appeared to be working late as well, it seemed.

“Well, I’d love to be home right now but my Board of Idiots has me putting out fires,” Rhys grumbled, waving back.

“Anything I can help with?”  Tarquin asked, voice serious.

“Not with that, no,” Rhys sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.  “I need a vacation, Feyre needs a vacation.  Somewhere remote and as far from other people as possible.”

“Don’t you have a mountain cabin for that?”  Tarquin teased.

“I’d like to take her somewhere warm too,” Rhys added.  “Got anything along those lines.”

“Actually, we just purchased a small island.  If you could wait a month for me to get a proper structure, plumbing, electricity, et cetera, built, you could be the first people to book it.  But until then, I have nothing private like you’re wanting.”  Tarquin admitted.

“That sounds wonderful.  Let me know when it’s finished,” Rhys sighed.  A month, at least.  It would be a long wait but perhaps a needed one.  He would need to do something before then for Feyre.  Perhaps a four-day weekend where they didn’t leave bed except to eat.  That was something he could easily propose to her.  “What are you doing at work so late?”  Rhys asked Tarquin, realizing he was still on the phone.

“Just doing a good friend a favor.  I’ll give you an update once I have that island up to code.”  Tarquin hung up leaving Rhys alone in the silence once more.  He glanced at his computer screen but the photo next to it of Feyre smiling up at him from their one-year wedding anniversary drew his eyes to it.  She was home and liking getting ready for bed or in bed and all he wanted was to be next to her.

With a long sigh, he turned off his computer knowing he would likely hate himself come Monday when he needed to deal with more of this crap.  But for now, he wanted to go home to his wife and he doubted that he would be able to be productive now that that particular thought had entered his mind.

When he was sure he had gathered up all of his things, he turned off the light to his office and proceded down the elevators to the parking ramp.  As he left the ramp in his car, he glanced up at Tarquin’s office in time to see it, too, go dark.  Good, the boy needed to enjoy his Friday night as well.  What was left of it anyway.

When Rhys arrived home at the manor, he saw a lone light on in the foyer.  The rest of the windows were dark which meant Feyre had gone to bed already.  Disappointment crashed through him.  He would have to wait until morning to propose a four day weekend, perhaps the next week.  And he would have to apologize for missing kissing her goodnight for the fifth night in a row when she did wake.

He wanted into the foyer and proceded back through the halls to the kitchen where he normally collected a cup of tea each night before heading into his study to read for a while.  It was his wind down routine, especially since Feyre had started getting too tired to stay awake very late. 

When he flipped on the light in the kitchen he stopped short.  Feyre was sitting there, dressed in a delicious looking nightgown holding his favorite cup in her hands.  He was about to question why she had been sitting in the dark but he noticed a gift bag sitting on the counter.

“What’s this?”  He asked looking at it.  Stepping closer he noticed the bag had his name written on it.  There was no mistaking it was a gift for him, then.  And judging by the handwriting, it was from Feyre herself.

“Why don’t you take a look?”  She asked softly.

It was rare that Feyre would give Rhys a gift.  Rare because he never wanted physical gifts from her.  The gifts he received were her time, her sweet kisses, the amazing things she did to him with her hands and mouth, and the sounds he could coax out of her when he was buried in her.  So any sort of actual gift was something strange and more so because Feyre looked anxious about it.

Gentle he pushed aside tissue paper, digging down into the bag.  He was about to claim it was empty when his hand connected with a small piece of plastic.  Grasping it, it was long and thin as he hauled it out of the sea of paper it had been surrounded in.  When he finally caught sight of the item in his hand, he froze.  A pregnancy test.  In his hand he was holding a pregnancy test.  He knew what it had to mean but he looked to the little screen anyway.  _Pregnant_. 

He was glad Feyre had set his favorite cup down because he couldn’t help but scoop her up and hold her tight.  It explained why she was so tired.  Why she hadn’t really been eating much.  Why she sometimes found reason to leave the lounge when Cassian heated up Illyrian food for lunch. 

“Is it okay?”  She asked when he only held her tight.  “I know we weren’t thinking about children for a while but—”

She stopped when he pulled back to cover her lips with his own.  Mother above!  How could she think he wouldn’t be okay? 

“I’m estatic, Darling,” he murmured against her lips.  “I can’t believe you are giving me a child.”  He rested his forehead against hers.  “Who else knows?”

“Thesan, since he confirmed it for me yesterday,” Feyre gave him a tired smile.  “And I think Tarquin suspects.”

“What?”  Rhys pulled back.  “Tarquin?”

“Well, I didn’t tell him but he made some comments about taking care of myself when I asked him to let me know when you left the office tonight,” she settled back onto the kitchen stool.  “I’m sure Az knows somehow because he’s that talented but beyond that, no one else.  I wanted you to be the first person I told.”

“How should we tell the others?”  Rhys asked.  He had a few ideas but he had a feeling Feyre would have better ones.

“I got some gifts to give out at dinner tomorrow night,” Feyre admitted.  “I didn’t think you’d mind.”  She offered him her hand and led him out of the kitchen.  Slowly she wound the way up to their bedroom where several items were strewn across the bed.  The first was mug that said _World’s Greatest Uncle_.  “For Azriel.”  Feyre explained.  The second was a t-shirt that said _World’s Okayest Uncle_.  “For Cassian.”  Which left Rhys almost in tears as he laughed.  For Mor then was a pink, shiny rhinestone encrusted coffee tumbler that said _Promoted to Aunt._   And for Amren a charm for her charm bracelet that simply had the word _Aunt_ craved into a silver bead.

“Perfect,” Rhys told her.  “I can’t wait to see their faces.”  Then he tossed her down on the bed and proceeded to kiss every inch of her, wanting her to feel how happy he was with every press of his lips against her skin.  She gave him a breathy laugh as he pressed a final kiss to her stomach.

“Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”  She asked when he settled into the bed next to her.

“Honestly, Feyre, I don’t care.  All I care about is that they are healthy and happy,” he pressed another kiss to her temple.  “I’m going to baby you so much that you hate me.”

 “Doubtful,” she murmured back and settled in to sleep.

The following evening Rhys had a hard time hiding his grin as his family came to join them for dinner.  He hid his concern when Feyre left the kitchen while Cassian was cooking and served her a glass of sparkling grape juice that happened to look exactly like Mor’s glass of sparkling white wine that was supposed to pair divinely with the chicken Cassian was whipping up.

He talked about what things he would still need to face with the Board come Monday that he hadn’t gotten to the night before and they strategized all through dinner until it came time to serve dessert.  Feyre had volunteered to get the dessert that evening so when she came out with a bakery box and gift bags, eyes narrowed.

“It’s not someone’s birthday, is it?”  Cassian demanded, looking mortified.

“Or some important anniversary?”  Mor added, looking equally alarmed.  Both of them took out their phones to start checking calenders.

“No.  Just something for our friends,” Feyre told them but only after both of them came up short.

Cassian snatched his gift bag from her hand before she could even hand it to him.  Tissue paper went flying as Feyre handed out the other gifts. 

“Hey!”  Cassian shouted.  “Okayest?  Just Okayest?  What the hell!”

“Congratulations, Feyre, Rhys,” Azriel gave them a nod as he set his mug on the table.  Amren gave them her own nod, already setting about putting the charm on her bracelet.  Then Mor squealed as she took in the words on her tumbler and launched herself across the table first to Feyre and then Rhys.

“Why are we all so excited?”  Cassian demanded looking around at them all.

“Read the damned shirt,” Rhys told him over Mor’s blonde head.

“I saw it.  World’s Okayest Uncle.  As if I’m just the okayest at anything.  I’m the best.  And when you two finally start having kids…” he froze and looked down at the shirt once more and swore.  “I might deserve this shirt.  Congratulations you two.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a great uncle, Cass,” Feyre assured him.

“Oh!  I’m going to plan you the best baby shower!”  Mor squealed and launched herself at Feyre again. 

Talk of work was set aside as they turned to discussing the changes a baby in their lives would bring.  And after Amren had made her escape and Mor had whisked Feyre away to look at which room would be the nursery, Rhys found a moment with his brothers.  Azriel passed him a tumbler of his own finest scotch and the three of them toasted to the future that burned brightly before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact. My husband and I announced our second pregnancy to his brother with a "World's Okayest Uncle" shirt. He was greatly offended.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ACOTAR fanfiction and my first time posting on this site. Please review. I'm not quite sure where this story is going yet so bear with me. I'm always open to critique!


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